


Now & Then

by Holmesify



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/F, Flashbacks, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holmesify/pseuds/Holmesify
Summary: From the 1980s to today – how two Witches had to grow apart to grow back together when their time was right.





	1. 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Witches get a glimpse of their future.

Hecate should have known that a visit from the nearest Wizarding academy, Murdock’s, on a savagely frosty January morning in 1984, would set in motion a series of events that would shape the rest of her life in a way that she had only ever imagined as part of her worst nightmares.

At the start, the situation gave no particular sign of the intention to ruin the rest of Hecate’s time on Earth. A bunch of Wizards from Year 2 – each year group was having their own Assembly – were slouching shyly at the back of the stage whilst their Deputy Head, a giant of a man, bent himself in half at the waist to use the microphone. “Good morning,” he boomed, making even Miss Cackle flinch; “good morning, all. Let me introduce myself. In fact, let me introduce myself in a minute. _Is this thing adjustable_?”

As Miss Newt shot across the stage to help him, Hecate leaned her head on the back of the seat with a gigantic yawn. She was only 14, but she already had no time for grown men. She let her head flop to the side on which her best friend was sat to raise a brow at her. _What is this?_

Pippa Pentangle raised her own perfectly-plucked brow back at her. “I know, right? What a waste of time.”

“ _There_!” the man bellowed, microphone adjusted to his height at last, making everyone jump for the second time. “Now, where was I?”

Hecate zoned out entirely. One by one each boy went to speak, but nobody found bothering to re-adjust the microphone, which was now towering above them, worth it; and they largely went un-heard. There was a smattering of laughter from time to time, probably more at the situation than what someone was saying, but because Hecate as a rule found nothing amusing she used the time to flesh out her latest scenario for the future. She already had a lair in a forest in Scotland, and there went her beloved familiar Morgana, fetching some fish from the nearest stream, and she heard her latest potion brewing by the hearth, maybe one to heal the sick this time, or purify water, or repair nature. It was time for a new element, a new layer to strive for. How would her garden grow? Would she relocate in warmer weather? Was that… _someone singing, far away, a flash of blonde amongst the trees_?

Hecate was torn from her imagination by a round of applause. At least it signalled the end of Assembly. She was about to pick her bag up to leave for the first period when Miss Newt ran back on to the stage.

“One moment, please!” she shrilled. A groan rose, but everyone paused to listen. “Now, as you are aware, one side of the room will spend the first period watching the talented young Wizards perform whilst the other half has their normal lesson, then swap with the other half for the second period. Whilst we want everyone to make the most of this brief reprieve from learning, we ask that those of you observing Flying, PE, and the like on the field keep an eye on the wind; the weather is particularly thunderous today, and should we find it not suitable, we shall be returning to the safety of the main building, where I have been promised that Nathaniel Nox’s abacus demonstration is _particularly_ riveting.”

 

Nathaniel Nox’s abacus demonstration was not, in fact, particularly riveting. However, looking at the rapt faces around her, Hecate knew that she was the only one to feel this way.

This was because Nathaniel turned out to be particularly handsome. Even Hecate saw it, which was saying something. He had mousy brown hair that swept over his face, and big blue eyes, and warm skin; when he smiled, he made every girl in the room weak at the knees. Hecate liked him because only good humour made him laugh (and there was a lot of mean humour about at this age), and because she realised, watching her best friend watch him, that Pippa liked him probably a pinch more than everyone else. Hecate trusted Pippa’s judgement, tried her best to make herself like the same people for her sake. Herein lied the problem, which was that Nathaniel liked Pippa back. It was obvious. She was standing at the very front of the group as usual (whereas Hecate preferred to hang back), where the light from the window made the blonde of her hair just shine, wearing her favourite pink velvet hair band, and whenever he finished a trick he would point his wand at her with a flourish before winking. Pippa was subject to many nudges from her many friends that hour, much tittering, but Hecate paid the whole thing no mind at first. It was only when the second period was over, and Nathaniel swept past them only to turn around to present his fair maiden with a bow that nearly made him lose his hat, that Hecate started to sense the first prickles of apprehension at the base of her spine.

The Wizards left, the feeling faded over the break, and by the end of the third period, Hecate was ready to forget that Murdock’s existed. Pippa seemed to feel the same, having not referred to it once, save for handling the one or two people that rushed over to her as they left Plant Identification for the lunch period to squeal about her having been noticed by the younger Nox boy. (She was gentle with them, but not particularly encouraging; Hecate knew that her status gave her a lot of experience in how best to tread to avoid a rumour starting.)

“Are we going outside?” Pippa asked as she tried to wrestle a tangerine out of her bag.

“Not sure. Are we allowed? With the wind?”

“Yeah, I just saw some other people head out. It must have let up. What do you say?”

Hecate paused to plant a boot on top of a radiator, lifting herself up to peer out of the window. Pippa ran hot, but there was no residual warmth in Hecate’s wiry frame. “If you want to eat out there, I’m going to need my cardigan,” she said.

“Oh! Borrow mine!”

“Won’t you be – ?” Hecate stared as Pippa removed it. Hecate put it on with a blush. At once, she felt much warmer. It was part of the uniform, nothing new, but it was faintly peach-scented, for some reason, it was _softer_. With Pippa’s back turned, she let it envelope her like a hug. “Thank you, Pipsqueak.”

Pippa threw a smile over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

 _Ah,_ that’s _what it was like to feel weak at the knees._

 

As they reached the large oak at the boundaries of the field where they would often spend the lunch period, Hecate noticed a bunch of broom-wielding Witches standing in the shadow. To her surprise, Pippa was slowing to a halt near them.

“Pippa!” one of them shouted, waving her over. Hecate flushed, mortified on Pippa’s behalf, not wanting her to be found spending time with a girl as low in the hierarchy as Hecate; but noticed that the Witches were in their final year, nearly women, with a level of maturity that made them oblivious to such nuisances as social standing, and marvelled at how Pippa’s popularity extended to being _invited over by name_ by the much older Head Girl.

Pippa grasped Hecate’s wrist, sensing that she would try to hang back, before marching over. “Hi, Lue!” she said, and the two women gave each other a flamboyant peck, _mwah, mwah,_ like this was Paris in the 1960s instead the Arse End Of Nowhere, England. Hecate tried not to scowl, staring at her shoes instead. She liked when Pippa played up to the older Witches, recognised it as natural, knew that it was not harming either party, nor her; but it never failed to serve as a reminder of how sharply their futures would deviate, because this was Pippa’s future, and Hecate managed to stick out like a sore thumb every time.

“Sorry, what’s your name?”

Hecate glanced up in surprise to find a pair of warm brown eyes on her. Luella’s best friend, Georgia Grimm. Hecate remembered having very briefly fancied the hat off her when she first joined Cackle’s, when she had only just turned 13; even then, the girl had seemed enormously cool. She noticed how Georgia was wearing a lot of make-up in a varying shades of plum to match the huge purple bow in her hair, with two black eyes like someone had punched her. _Fashion was weird_. In fact, Georgia wasn’t the only girl in the group with a spiced-up uniform. As she glanced from one person to the next, Hecate noticed that every single one of them had something strange going on with it – a piece of bling here, a hastily-glued-on French manicure there. _Huh_.

“This is my best friend, Hecate,” Pippa said, bringing Hecate back to Earth with a grasp of her shoulder that Hecate, with a blush, sensed the pride in. “She’s top of the – ”

“That’s right, old _HB_!” Georgia near-shrieked. “I designed your certificate for the Potion-Off! I even painted the frame myself. I’m trying my hand at WArt – Witching Art, you know – it’s one of the Year 5 electives, it’s new, but Miss Magnus said that I have talent like she’s never seen,” – she paused to smile wider in response to a jumble of praises that rose from the group to back her up – “and she just let me at it. I mean, _someone_ , and by that I mean Lue, has this idea in her head that she was just flattering me to get me to do her work for her, but she’s just jealous because she has trouble managing a stick man.” She paused for a second time to let the laughter, including Luella’s, fade. Her ever-present smile was a sight to behold, and Hecate knew that there wasn’t a sad bone in her – with family like this, it was hardly surprising. Just as she felt the familiar pang, Georgia pressed on. “Point being, it’s the highest mark that we’ve ever seen, right, gang? That’s some talent!”

“That’s my Hecate!” Pippa said, in the same sing-song tone.

Hecate was barely able to believe what she was hearing. She felt a lump in her throat at how easily the praise was flowing from the people around her in this moment. She wanted to live in it for the rest of her life.

“Your _hair_ , as well!” a girl at the back of the group said, shoving her way to the front, to a second round of verbal back-up. Hecate found the plait hanging over her shoulder being lifted, the girl’s face an excited _O_ behind it. “How thick is this! The shine! I’m going bald already, I swear. What do you _use_?”

“Uh. Water,” Hecate replied.

To her surprise, everyone burst out laughing. The only exception was Luella; the beloved Head Girl was just squinting at her, trying her on for size for a moment. Her eyes were friendly enough, but just as minutes earlier Hecate had marvelled at Pippa’s popularity, she found herself marvelling at Luella’s power over the rest of the women. Trickle by trickle, as each one noticed that she was silent, the laughter waned.

A pause, and then: “You’re funny,” Luella proclaimed, “I like you.”

Beside her, Pippa squeaked. Hecate knew that if her friend wasn’t trying to be more grown-up, she would have squealed at the very top of her voice. For her part, Hecate felt everything around her stop, then jolt back to life in blaring technicolour. Her face was burning.

“Thank you,” she managed. “I like – uh, You – you all look very nice.”  

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Pippa gushed, reaching for Luella. “Where are you ladies _going_?”

Luella observed each girl in the group one by one before turning back to her friend. She leaned in to share her secret. “You’re not to let on, of course, but we’re going to visit Murdock’s. A few of them caught our eye this morning, and we thought – well, it’s the ‘80s, right, gang? Why should we wait for them to find us?”

“Yeah!” the other Witches enthused behind her.

Luella leaned in. “There’s one in particular, Nico – not sure of his family name, but he has a brother around your age, maybe you saw him?”

“Nathaniel _Nox_?”

Hecate's stomach sank.

Luella smirked. “Knew it.”

“He was at our Assembly just this morning. I had to watch him use an abacus for an hour. He kept _winking_ at me... ”

“You should see his older brother, Nico. I knew when our eyes met that we were just meant to be,” Luella sighed, moving Georgia’s elbow from where it was nudging her side. “Stop it, George. Jealousy is an ugly emotion.”

“She read that in a magazine,” Georgia winked at Hecate, snatching her from her anguish for a second.

“What about you, Georgia?” Pippa asked. “Have you a – ? At Murdock’s?”

“Nah! Not my area, particularly. I’m just going as Lue’s wing-man. Ha, get it, _wing_ , because we’re flying – ”

“We get it, George,” Luella replied, at the same time as Pippa exclaimed, “Oh, you’re flying over. How exciting! Hecate!”

Hecate, however, was stuck on the phrase _Not my area_. How easily Georgia had said it, how she had emphasised it with a shrug like it was flung from her with no weight. Hecate was sinking beneath the weight of _Not my area_ every night. _Not my area_. _What was the meaning of that?_ That she wasn’t interested in men _yet_ , or – at all? She felt a bolt of lightning strike her, a surge of shock with a tinge of pure ecstasy at imagining this grown-up with her grown-up adventures, her grown-up love, _lady_ love, a woman with a _woman_ , and the exhilarating glamour of it, images flashing before her of secluded beaches at night, hushed laughter, _wine_ , not sure what the pictures in her mind truly _meant_ , the meat of it just out of her reach; but it only electrified her further, knowing that such knowledge was _exclusive_ , reserved only for the older Witches, a secret treasure glinting just over the horizon, waiting for her to find it in time. _What was it, when would she reach it?_ Her skin prickled hot. She glanced up at Georgia, and was surprised to find her watching her back, a strange twist to her mouth.

 _I’m only 18, Hecate,_ she heard in her mind, Georgia’s bemused stare pushing the message forth, and the thought that the older girl had managed to sense with Magic even a _fragment_ of what she was thinking made her want the ground to open beneath her; but she lowered her own gaze for just enough to break the telepathic force before raising it to stare right back, and with it, she was reminded of just how overly heavy Georgia's make-up was. Observing the group one by one, she realised that although these women projected an aura of proud femininity, they were, in reality, just as lost as she was – on the edge, but not quite there yet, and not sure how far to go. She wondered if they ever wished that they were Hecate’s age again, with more time left to figure it out.

“Hecate?”

“Yes!” Hecate piped up. “Flying. How exciting.”

“No… We were talking about your joining us,” Luella said.

“Me?!”

“ _Us_ ,” Pippa said. There’s about forty minutes left of lunch-time… we’ll be back before anyone notices that we’re missing, right?”

“Oh… ” Hecate had expected a moment like this. Pippa, persuaded by more fun people (which only left everyone else at Cackle’s) to take part in some mischievous activity that uptight Hecate Hardbroom had no interest in; uptight Hecate Hardbroom left behind. She just hadn’t expected it so early on. “Pippa, you’re the most popular girl in the year. How is no-one going to notice?”

“I spend my whole lunch period with you,” Pippa replied. “Nobody ever bothers us, do they?”

“The wind… ”

“Ah, forget the wind! I’ll hook you up with Nathaniel… ” Luella teased.

Pippa flushed. “I’m not sure. What if he isn’t interested?”

“Isn’t interested? Pippa, look at you!” the group wailed as one. Hecate, inclined to agree, stayed silent.

“If someone notices?”

“If we’re caught, I’ll take the blame,” Georgia said, like it was nothing. “They would never punish _me_ for visiting a boy, they’d be thanking their lucky stars.”

 _Huh_ , Hecate thought. And, _these women had an answer for everything_. And, _oh no_ , _it’s working_.

“I don’t know… ” Pippa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hecate, what do you say?”

Hecate already knew that she wasn’t going with them, not just because she was no rule-breaker but because she knew exactly how it would play out – the older Witches, led by Luella, finding their respective _beau_ s, Georgia taking Pippa to meet Nathaniel before returning, subject to which base Luella had reached with Nico by then, either to her or to pity-sit Hecate, left in the bushes like a toy thrown from a pram. It hurt, because the last thing that she wanted was to refuse Pippa a shot at experiencing life like she wanted to (Hecate was no idiot – she knew that her best friend was meant for more than just spending every lunch period snacking in a field with the most boring Witch alive for the whole of her time at Cackle’s). As much as she would like to, she had no ownership over Pippa. She had nothing to give her. It was time to let her go. “I say… why not!”

“Seriously?”

Hecate plastered on a smile that felt like it was splintering her skin open. “Yes! You’re right. Nobody will notice, it’s a one-off, and Nathaniel seemed… nice.”

Luella said “I hope that it isn’t a one-off,” at the same time as Pippa said “Oh Hecate, we may even find _you_ someone!” a beat before Georgia mumbled beneath her breath, “Somehow, I’m not sure that she’s interested.”

Hecate wasn’t sure which part to reply to. “Oh no, I’m staying here.”

“What! _Hiccup_!”

Luella, to Hecate’s relief, let the nickname slide. “Hecate, Pippa, I’m sorry. It’s half-past already, we should get a move on. Are you coming or not?”

“B-b-but, my broom – ”

“Ride on the back of mine.”

“I’m – well, it’s just – ”

“ _Go_ , Pippa,” Hecate encouraged, with what she hoped was a gentle tone to her voice. “Never mind me.”

One by one, each Witch was starting to mount a broom, preparing for the flight. As they fought with the brewing storm to stay upright, Pippa turned to Hecate. “How can you say that? You’re my best friend.”

“You want this?”

“I want _both_! Why won’t you just go along with something for _once_? Stop making me _choose_!”

That shut Hecate up fast.

Before them, Luella was starting to rise from the ground. She held a hand out to Pippa. “Well?”

Pippa seemed to shrink on the spot. “No, thank you, Lue,” she sighed. “Maybe next time.”

Luella winked. “I’ll let your boy know.” No grudge held. With a flick of a wrist, she summoned the other Witches to float around her, and then they were gone, moving slickly along the skies with no noise to mark their escape but for the sporadic snap of a robe where the wind hit it. Hecate and Pippa watched in similar silence until the last Witch was out of sight; then Hecate turned to start walking back, wanting to retreat to the privacy of her bed until lunch-time was over.

“Hiccup, wait!” Pippa shouted.

Hecate ignored her, but heard a rustle of fabric behind her a second before being snatched back by the elbow. _This was the longest hour of her life._ “What?”

“I’m sorry. I only meant – I just wish that we could do more together, you know? I do whatever _you’re_ interested in, don’t I? Fine, we don’t have to visit stupid Nathaniel, or I’ll go on my own, but. I _love_ to spend time with you, Hecate, and you _have_ to start believing that at some point, because this is just exhausting.”

“ _You_ might want to, but you can’t speak for everyone else.”

“How do you _know_?! Have you asked them?”

“Have I _asked_ them?” Hecate blurted, hearing, to her mortification, a watery tremble to her voice. “Are you _blind_ , Pippa? Are you _that_ blinded by your fame? Do you not remember how many times you’ve had to stand up against bullies for me since we started here?”

“B-b-but, Lue, and Georgia, and the rest of the older ones, they’re not _like_ that – ”

 _Boy, was this wind fierce._ Hecate had to raise her voice to reply. “They’re well-intentioned, but it’s not enough.”

“You can’t just paint everyone with the same brush! It’s not _fair_!”

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about _fair_ , Princess.”

Pippa gasped. Her eyes were starting to fill. “Hiccup. _Please_. Not with me.”

Hecate wrenched her elbow from Pippa’s grasp. “Just – leave me alone. Please. Just for today, leave me alone.”

“You have no idea, do you?” As Pippa pushed her wind-swept hair back from her mouth to speak, Hecate saw a tear smudged along with it.

“No idea about _what_?”

“I would choose you. Every time. Just like I did now, like I have done before, and will do again. I choose you.”

The pain within Hecate gave a great heave. “Fantastic. _Pity_.”

“No,” Pippa smiled around a sob.

“You’re not _happy_ , Pippa.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not.”

“Then – why - ?”

Pippa lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what I want. _It’s what I want_. You, every time, even if it means giving up everything else.”

“That’s not what I want it to… ” Hecate heard a far-away whistle before the rest of the sentence formulated itself, and just as she half-turned to investigate, a huge gust rushed at them. Her hat was snatched from her head just as Pippa, with her back to the howling force, was sent stumbling forth. Hecate just about managed to hold on to her, half-blinded by her own hair tearing itself from her plait, turning to take the majority of the blast as the whistle sounded for a second time, louder than before.

“ _Girls_!” she heard, a panicked scream over the bluster. “Everyone inside, _now_!”

Pippa raised her head, wild-eyed at a spot over Hecate’s shoulder. “Oh,” she breathed.

Hecate spun, maintaining her grip on her friend. She saw the grey smudge on the horizon twisting with rage, felt the same breath-taking power within her. _The tornado within_. Oh, _to use this moment to escape with Pippa, take shelter in a hedge somewhere, vanish from society, figure out life from there on their own, forever…_

“ _Lue_ ,” Pippa shrieked; Hecate barely heard her over the pandemonium around them, but she read her mouth. “They won’t have landed in time – _oh_!”

Pippa was sent stumbling once more. Hecate stole her back just in time, holding her tight as her friend hid her wet face in her neck, shaking. “It’s alright, Pipsqueak,” she whispered, stroking a palm over her frenzied hair, never mind that her voice was snatched from her with every exhale. “It’s alright. We just have to tell someone, OK? We just have to let someone know where they are, to help them.”

“ _What_?!” Pippa warbled, moving back, squinting at her mouth. “ _What are you saying_? _The wind_ … ”

Hecate stared, mesmerised. She knew that she was no longer just lip-reading; Pippa’s lovely mouth was right there, _right there_ , and she wanted to put her own on it. In spite of the ice hurling around them, she felt hot. Black hair mingled with blonde, and a strand of it smacked Pippa in the lower lip, then stuck. It was evident that she had no idea what she wanted, but Hecate would show her _._ Heart pounding, she started to push it back.

“ _Hardbroom_? _Pentangle_? _Is that you_?”

A teacher was emerging from the fog. As soon as Pippa saw her, she lurched over. “ _Oh_ , _Miss Newt_!”

“ _There_ , _there_ ,” Miss Newt shouted back. “ _Come on_ , _inside_ , _now_. T _he tornado will hit any minute_.”

“ _But_ – !” Pippa was shut up by a formidable frown. She bent to pick up Hecate’s hat, eyes flickering briefly over to her, before starting back. Hecate watched her go, shivering, until Miss Newt’s advancing form blocked her view.

“ _Come on_ , _Hardbroom_! _What is wrong with you_!”

Hecate gave a weak smile. “I’d rather stay here,” she half-joked. _If only the tornado would blow me from this place altogether._

 

That evening, Hecate was in bed, reading an article that she had found in the library about famous tornadoes of the past. She wondered if today’s tornado would make it to print. True to Georgia’s word, the staff were more relieved that she was at last showing some interest in the Wizarding population _(ha)_ than angry that she had sneaked out, and insisted on making a big show in a hastily-organised Assembly of how she was found hiding from the wind with a Very Male Lover, lest the younger Witches had any ideas about viewing her as a role model for just not being interested; well, it was too late for Hecate. She wondered if the print title would be not _TORNADO RAVAGES CACKLE’S ACADEMY_ but _HURRAH, GEORGIA’S NOT GAY!_ _Head Girl Luella Lester Preserves Position Amid General Sense Of Relief_. The thought made her laugh.

“What’s tickled you?” Pippa was poking her head in.

Hecate jumped. “Oh! Nothing.”

Pippa sidled in, then helped herself to one side of Hecate’s bed as usual. Tonight, she was wearing a striped pyjama set beneath a white robe embroidered with berries, her hair braided just like Hecate’s. It astonished Hecate that she was willing to share a bed with her, given what had nearly transpired earlier. “So,” Pippa began, picking at the blanket. “I have a question.”

Hecate had a prepared a speech for this exact moment. She put the paper to one side, exhaling to gather her nerves. _It was time to put an end to this_. “Listen, I just wanted to say – ”

“Is Georgia _seriously_ taking WArt for an elective?”

Hecate blinked. “Pardon?”

Pippa smiled. “I mean, was her award that _great_?”

“Uh… ” Hecate shook her head to re-set her mind. She remembered wondering why it looked like it had been hand-finished by an arthritic monk with significantly reduced visual acuity. She smiled back. “Let’s just say, Lue had a point.”

As her Pipsqueak started to laugh, Hecate knew.

She would gladly take being selfish if it meant holding on to her for a while longer.


	2. 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa makes a move.

_H,_

_Dear Ada gave me a glimpse of your time table, and you seem to have much more free time than you’d told me. Naughty, naughty! You wouldn’t turn away an old friend, now, would you? Joking aside, it_ would _be lovely to see you again, dear Hiccup. I have missed you. How does midnight tomorrow sound?_

_With love,_

_Your PS! xxx_

Hecate folded the note in half, then in half again. She narrowed her eyes at it, waiting for it to reveal itself for what it was. When that gave her nothing, she paced back and forth before the hearth, then let the note slide from her grip for the leaping flames of the log fire to snatch up. She watched it blacken around the edges with satisfaction before turning back to her pile of marking.

A new note was emerging from the stack of paper.

“Argh!” The moment it had formed, Hecate snatched it up. “What now!”

_H,_

_Dear Ada gave me a glimpse of your time table…_

“ _Ada_!” Hecate bellowed at the top of her voice, injecting it with some extra magic to make it reach as many miles as it had to.

When Ada burst out of the rug in a flourish of purple smoke, her eyes were wide. “Hecate? Why are you in my study? What’s wrong?”

“I was just trying to pick up some of your marking, but I ended up having to light a fire. To burn _these_.” Hecate waved the note in the air with a scowl.

Ada’s eyes shifted to the side. “Oh?”

“It’s an invite. A _self_ -invite. They’re growing out of every square inch of this place. Every time I burn one, a new one makes itself known. I’m surprised that I haven’t found one in my ear yet. I probably won’t have to wait for much longer at this rate. Watch.” Hecate hurled the square of parchment at the flames, then searched around for the next one. It was moulding itself from the slope of Ada’s embroidered bosom. Hecate picked it up, not without an internal wince. “Aha!”

“I see.” Ada looked very much like she had already seen. Many times. “I wonder... From whom, may I ask?”

Even saying the name made Hecate’s stomach sour. “Miss Pentangle, of course. No other good Witch alive would invite themselves to a private residence like this.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Ada eyed Hecate, standing in a study that was very much not her own, with a raised brow.

Hecate flushed. “Well, yes. Like I said, I was trying to help you out with some of this.” She gestured at the sliding heap on the table, on top of which five new notes were just starting to bud.

“Hecate.” Ada rounded the table in her usual measured, slow, thoughtful way, one finger tracing the grain of mahogany, and sat with an air of impending wisdom. The notes were starting to tremble from neglect – Hecate would have sworn that one of them went as far as squeaking out a protest before being silenced by Ada’s hefty palm landing atop them, squashing them flat. “Hecate,” she repeated.

“Ada,” Hecate replied, moving to stand in front of her like a pupil expecting a scolding. She had been, once.

“You are aware, of course, that I told Miss Pentangle of your availability?”

“No!” Hecate protested. “… Yes.”

“She told you as much?”

“Yes.”

“You are aware that I ensured it?”

Hecate glanced up from where she had, without realising, hung her head. “Ensured it?”

“Your availability. I made your schedule… _emptier_ , let’s say.”

“I had no idea,” Hecate mused. Then, remembering that she was not alone – “You did? Why?”

Ada waved an arm. “Sit, Hecate. Please.”

Hecate perched.

“I understand that you have a history with Miss Pentangle, and that you recently made up. Now, let me speak!”

“Say it!”

Ada sighed, folding one arm over the other on top of the table. “You really have no idea how much happier you’ve been since then, do you?”

 

Hecate was sweating like a pig.

Five minutes ago, Pippa had entered the building on a stream of pink smoke, swept her waiting friend in to a bone-jangling hug, moved back to adjust her hat to sit at a slightly more fashionable slant on her head, and was now standing in front of Hecate with more expectation in her face than Hecate knew how to handle.

“Well?” Pippa smirked. “Bat got your tongue?”

Hecate tried her very hardest not to scowl. “Not in the least,” she replied, already moving. “Come on – I’m late.”

“For what?” Pippa had to near-jog in her pink-backed stilettos to keep up with Hecate.

“Flying. Ethel Hallow almost perfected her sharp right last time, I intend to be there when – ”

“Flying!” Pippa exclaimed, reaching out to grab Hecate’s wrist, jerking her to a halt. “At _midnight_?”

“Why not. One must learn how to navigate the skies at night at some point, no?”

Pippa was gaping at her. “Yes, but at _midnight_? It’s September, it’s dark by 5 PM, Hecate! Were they at least permitted a _nap_ before you whisked them from their nice warm beds to get up in the air?”

“Not as such,” Hecate fidgeted. She had not expected this. “They were given a late start – a lie-in, instead. Pippa, I fail to understand what the problem is. We’re late. Let’s _go_.”

Hecate found herself fixed with a stare made of pure ice. She gulped, stomach sinking. Her mouth opened on instinct, eager to salvage the situation, but Pippa – her wise Pippa – was already speaking. “OK, Hecate. I’ll bite. I am going stand by you on that field, and I am going to watch your Witches try to navigate the air with the night vision of a new-born. When they inevitably hurt their equipment, or worse, themselves, I am going to help as much as I’m able. And when this whole farce is over, I am going _home_. And next time, if you would rather _risk the safety of a twelve-year-old_ instead of spending quality time with an old friend, I would very much prefer to be _informed in advance_.”

With that, she was gone.

The fight left Hecate’s form in a trembling exhale, leaving her slumped by a balustrade. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. To think that she had tried to trick_ Pippa _, of –_

“ _Hecate Hardbroom_. For Heaven’s _sake_.” Pippa’s voice rang out of the stones around her. “There are eleven Witches standing here in this wet field, shivering right out of their pinafores. _Get here this second_.”

Hecate transported herself to a row of eleven glares, barely visible as they were in spite of her top-of-the-range night vision, and one pink-framed frown that not even the worst Witch would have trouble locating. With that, her eyes found Mildred Hubble, shaking like a leaf at the end of the row. She saw how Enid Nightshade had a grip on her shoulder, shielding her from the howling wind. She saw how Maud Spellbody held at her at the waist to soak up some of the shock of the night. A friend’s job.

A friend.

Her eyes shot back to Pippa.

“Inside, girls,” she barked.

 

When everyone was safely put to bed, Pippa joined Hecate in her room. They talked quietly over milky tea.

“So you’re saying that you _do_ like to spend time with me, but you’re – what – _shy_?” Pippa said. She had magicked a pyjama set of the finest pearlescent silk out of the air earlier, whisking herself in to it like a particularly frothy blancmange before primly taking a seat on the end of Hecate’s bed, and was now watching her over the rim of her mug with a twist to her mouth that spoke of pity.

Hecate had no use for Pippa’s pity.  “I’m not shy,” she protested. “It’s not that _simple_. I’m just… ” She had no idea.

Pippa gave a minute gasp. “Introverted. Yes.”

“Intro- _what_!”

“Intro _version_ , Hecate. There was no such word for it back then, of course, but if there were, it would have explained you to a T.”

 _Back then_. Hecate held her mug with more force. It was an old Cackle’s Academy mug, _from_ back then, and she relished the bite of the splintered handle over her palm as she tensed. It grounded her. “What exactly, may I ask, is there to _explain_ about me?”

“Hecate. Now, _Hiccup_.”

“What!”

“Tonight is a fine example. For a start.”

“It was a _mistake_.”

“No.” To Hecate’s surprise, Pippa leaned over her to put her mug on the side, then stayed like that, in Hecate’s space, for just long enough to grab her hand. She brought it with her as she sat back, holding it in her lap like an wounded bird. “No-one else would have gone to such an extreme, Hiccup. To avoid spending time with someone that they _liked_.”

Hecate felt faint with the push of Pippa’s thumb over her palm. “Liked?” she murmured.

“That they… ” Pippa’s eyes flicked up. “Feared?”

“Feared!” Hecate snatched her hand back. “I don’t fear you. I don’t fear a soul!”

Pippa was not giving up. She knelt on the bed, in front of Hecate, and started to advance upon her. The whisper of her silk pyjamas was thunderous in the silence. Her eyes bewitched Hecate to the spot. _“Then why run?”_

“Run?”

“1987, the Doubles Display. The Spelling Bee, not long ago. Today – right now. You run, and run, and run.”

“I’m – I – ”

“Yes?”

Hecate leaned back on the head-board, flushing beneath the rough linen of her pyjamas. She felt strangely faint. Feverish. The pulse in her neck jumped at Pippa’s proximity. A familiar fragrance, rose water with a hint of chamomile, Pippa’s favoured night-time tea. It was 1 AM in the morning, a time for intimacy, the perfect time for private magic. To her shame, she felt the hot sting of a tear starting to bud.

Pippa saw. Biting her lip, she sat back. The intensity of the moment faded. She spoke to her lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Hecate cleared her throat. “You didn’t upset me.”

Pippa let out a breath of incredulous laughter. Her gaze slid away. “Right. Well.”

“It’s just that I – it’s just that I’m – ”

“What? _What are you, Hiccup_?”

Hecate exhaled. She tried to relax the thread of tension within her holding her upright. “It’s not you that I fear. It’s _me_ , how _I_ am. When we’re – when we spend _time_ – together.”

“But we _haven’t_ spent time together. Not since you... left.”

“Because I fear it. Do you understand?”

“I’m trying… ”

“Pippa,” Hecate started. She would never admit to the truth of how she feared her body would react to enough proximity to her beloved friend. She would only admit to just enough to make her Pipsqueak know that no personal insult was meant. “When we were young, our time together was the best, the best thing. We’re older now, and I’m not the same. I’m just not the same. I like to spend time with you, I _love_ to spend time with you, but it scares me. I’m not used to it. I’m not sure how to _be_. When I’m around you. I don’t know whether or not I _want_ to know how I am, either. I just want to be myself. _Wholly_ myself.”

“You _can_ be yourself around me, Hiccup! Surely you know that by now!”

“No, but that’s the problem. That’s precisely the problem. The only time when I am myself, _wholly_ myself, is when I am _by myself_.” Hecate shut her eyes, expecting the worst.

“Like I said,” Pippa pronounced. “Introversion.”

Hecate’s eyes shot open.

“Oh, Hecate.” Pippa was smiling. Her smile was kind, and just a fraction teasing, and below the surface, just a fraction sad. “You’ve spent a lot of time on your own, haven’t you? It’s my fault for not realising.”

“It’s not your fault!” It was about the only response that Hecate was able to manage in the moment.

“No,” Pippa said. She gave Hecate a sharp pat on her shin. “It is what it is.”

“That’s not to say – ”

“It’s alright, Hiccup. I know my place.”

Bolstered by Pippa’s use of her nickname in spite of what was just revealed, it was Hecate’s turn to reach out to grab her friend. “Pippa. You are – ”

“The exception, I know.” Pippa winked.

Hecate gaped. “You _know_?”

“Yes. Every introvert has an exception. OK, not _every_ , but most. I’m your exception. That’s how you let me become your friend, back then. Now, that’s not to say that I should shoulder my way in to every situation, like I did tonight. That was my mistake. An _extrovert_ ’s mistake, if you like.”

“What – what is it to say, then?” Hecate gazed at her friend with eyes that pleaded silently for her to read her, _read her_ , and speak for the both of them.

Pippa reached out, pinching the end of the braid that snaked over Hecate’s shoulder. “That is to say that _for now_ , whilst this is _new_ , I take my time with you, young lady.”

Hecate squeaked. “And?”

“And.” Pippa paused, giving the plait a light tug. “I’m going to let _you_ ask _me_ to meet, whenever _you’re_ ready.”

“No.”

“No,” Pippa smiled. “I thought not. How about, every now and then, I put forth a gentle reminder – ”

Hecate remembered the notes from earlier. “Not sure about your idea of _gentle_.”

“Hush, you! I mean it. Nothing more than a nudge, I promise. For you to take up, or not, as you wish.”

“Yes.” Hecate felt a grin beam out of her like a light. “Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Yes_. Pippa.”

Pippa let go of the braid. “Then we have ourselves a deal.”

“We do?”

“We do!”

They smiled at each other for a long moment, bursting at every seam for some thing more. They felt it – but each felt it _right there_ , but _just_ out of reach. A touch would not hurt, but they _had_ touched. A hand, a shin. A braid. It was enough, for tonight. It was enough.

Pippa removed herself from the bed, speaking of Ada having sorted a place out for her in a nearby wing. Hecate, smiling still, watched her vanish herself in the same shock of pink wind that had swept her in, promising to see her in the morning with a brighter mind with which to explore where best to take this visit. Their talk had not finished, Hecate knew.

 _At least,_ she thought, as she squashed her hot face to her blanket, one second from sleep, _Pipsqueak knows what I’m like_. _At least Pipsqueak knows_.

One small step.


	3. 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate continues to pine. Pippa, in her own special way, continues to be oblivious.

“Hiccup,” Pippa said. They were lying next to each other in a slope of hip-high heather on the outer edges of the playing field, just where the light would linger as it faded, watching the skies start to blacken above them as they waited for the other team to finish packing up their Flying equipment. Pippa was chewing on a piece of straw with a thoughtful frown.

“Yes?” Hecate replied.

“When you get married, what sort of husband would you like?”

Hecate, playing idly with the rope tie of her pinafore, let it slide from her grip. She was not prepared for how one run-in with some older Witches a year ago had infected Pippa with the same boy-mad virus that was steadily taking over most of their year. _Nathaniel this_ , _Nathaniel that_ was now the soundtrack to most of their time together. “What?”

“Handsome? Rich? Romantic?”

“Non-existent.” Hecate reached over, plucked the straw out of Pippa’s mouth, and stuck it in her own with an air of finality.

Pippa sat up. Leaned over. Sun light framed her head like a halo, painting it in the same wheat-gold tones of the heather rustling around them. “You can’t mean that!”

“I can, and what’s more, I do.” _Please let it go._

“Why, Hecate Hardbroom!” Pippa lay back with a flounce, sounding like Hecate had just hexed her whole family. “What nonsense. Non-existent indeed. How about when you catch a nice Wizard’s eye? What will you do, vanish the poor man?”

“If I must.”

Pippa surprised Hecate by releasing a peal of laughter. She was like that, her Pipsqueak – predictable most of the time, resisting expectation the rest. Hecate loved every side of her Pentangle, but she loved this one, the side that laughed in the face of bemusement, the most. She turned her head to wink at her friend as Pippa nudged her way in to Hecate’s side. “Oh, Hiccup,” she sighed, a smile lingering in her voice. “I know _just_ – ”

“Hard _broom_! Pentangle! Get a move on!”

The moment was over. With a groan, they picked themselves up to join the rest of the team.

 

That night, as Hecate lay in bed, staring out of the window, she wasn’t in the least surprised to hear a tentative knocking. She made the usual enquiring noise, and in tip-toed Pippa with a particular gleam to her eye. Hecate turned her back to her as if trying to make more space on the bed, in reality just wanting to hide for a while longer. She shut her eyes, heart sinking with the weight of Pippa making herself at home beneath the single grey blanket that Hecate would use in slightly warmer weather. She knew exactly what to expect – and sure enough –

“Hiccup?”

Pippa’s voice without a visual to embody it was a strange sound. Hecate half-turned, refusing to open her eyes just yet, but flicked a sharpened nail at a lump of wax on her bed-side table to light it. “Yes, Pipsqueak?”

“Wait.” Pippa turned to the flame, then to Hecate’s surprise, leaned over to blow it out, plunging them in to the pitch-black once more. “Did you mean it?”

“Pardon?”

“Earlier. This evening. When you said – you _know_ , when you said that – ”

“I don’t want a husband?”

Hecate felt a finger poke her side. A moment later, she heard a forlorn sigh. “Yes.”

“Yes. I meant it.”

“You’re not interested in marriage?”

Hecate inhaled. Was _this_ the moment that the last year of pacing back-and-forth in front of the mirror rehearsing lines had prepared her for? “I never said that I wasn’t interested in _marriage_ ,” she started, her heart in her mouth. “It’s the – the _husband_ part that I have a problem with, if you – ”

“Oh, what does it matter?” Pippa exclaimed, and the flame burst back to life, flickering over her in tones of orange. “Are you seriously planning on spending the rest of your life on your own?”

“Wait.” Hecate scrambled for purchase in the low light, just about managing to get a grip on Pippa’s arm. “Are you _upset_ with me?”

“No,” Pippa snorted. “I’m not upset. Why would I be upset?”

Hecate failed to keep the wonder out of her voice. “You _are_ ,” she realised. “You’re upset. Because you – you want to spend _–_?”

“To interrogate your future husband, just like you interrogated Nate? To have each other as Maid of Honour? To not watch you get more and more and more lonely as we grow up?” Pippa blurted, speaking over her, for which Hecate had to be thankful. “I mean, Hiccup, I’ve spent _my whole life_ preparing myself for marriage, and half of that time imagining you in the picture. What about when I have babies? What about when I… ”

Hecate lay back down. She let Pippa’s ramble wash over her, hardly listening. She felt as if she were floating. She imagined the pieces of her broken heart rising out of her, invisibly, and wanted to reach out to gather them before they flew from the window, which was ajar, and in to the night to be lost forever – and then realised that if having a heart meant this much pain, she was glad to let it go, and saw herself plucking the pieces from her flesh instead, every last shard, and hurling them out. “Pippa?” she said. Her voice sounded very far away.

“Yes?”

“You’re right. I want what you want. I’m just – tired. That’s all. Just tired. Tell me about my future husband?”

“Oh.” A pause. “Well, just like a best friend, you’re going to want to spend every waking moment with him. That’s how you _know_ , of course… ”

Hecate shut her eyes. Her heart had left.

 

The next morning was a Saturday. In order not to take time from their studies, Saturday morning at Cackle’s was when whoever had received post over the week had it put in their pigeon-hole for picking up. The pigeon-holes were opened at 8 AM, to encourage early rising, and shut at 8:30 AM; this made for a queue, every Saturday morning, of the most spoiled Witches punctuated by the slaves of the most nasty (Pippa, Hecate was proud to acknowledge, was simply of the over-indulged variety, for which she was hardly to blame), whilst the rest, having long since given up on finding a thing in their pigeon-hole, yawned as they waited like Hecate on the side for a more popular friend or enjoyed a nice lie-in.

Once upon a time, Hecate’s pigeon-hole _was_ worth opening. When she first started at Cackle’s, when she was expected to rise at 7:30 AM for the post – Year 1s, predicted to receive the highest volume, were given an earlier slot to get them out of the way – she would, from time to time, find in her pigeon-hole some article or preserved insect or other peculiarity that her Father had found interesting enough to share with her. In fact, her first Christmas at Cackle’s, when the pigeon-holes remained open for a longer period than usual to allow for a parcel arriving late or to encourage gift-sharing with a particularly neglected pupil, was marked by a fancy new fountain pen materialising at the back of it at the very last minute bound by a piece of paper – _All is well, best wishes for a Happy Christmas, Papa_.

 _All is well, best wishes, Papa_ would be the theme until February 1984, after which the notes started to peter out in line with Father’s failing health; until one morning, emerging from her room to join the queue in spite of having stared at an empty pigeon-hole every Saturday for half a year, she found herself gently led back to bed by a teacher, told no longer to bother (“ _Maybe you should use this time to focus on resting, Hecate_ ,”), and left alone with her shame.

Now, standing at the back waiting for her friend, Hecate wondered if opening her pigeon-hole for the first time in over a year would yield a load of treasure that someone had been waiting for her to receive, but knew that the risk of it yielding nothing, and the spiral in to which she would be sent, made investigating just not worth it. _Mr. Hardbroom has other priorities at the moment,_ the house-maid had informed Miss Cackle in writing as part of some enquiry that the Head must have made, referring sadly not just to his weakened mental state but the neglect that he had managed to mask by sending the same note every month ( _message received_ , Hecate had thought, and had to be held back by Pippa from saying as much). No, she would stay right where she was, in nobody’s way but for the one person giving her a right to be there – and here was Pippa now, leaning back beneath the weight of a larger-than-usual package as she walked past, smiling from ear to ear.

“Hiccup!” she threw over her shoulder. “This won’t open itself!”

Hecate joined her in her room. When she had become friendly enough with Pippa near the end of the first year to visit it for the first time, the place had been wreathed in a revolting shade of hot pink from head to toe, but by the end of Year 2 the hot pink was replaced by a much nicer shade of pale pink, or “baby pink,” according to Pippa, whatever that meant; and now, as they neared the end of Year 3, it was “touches,” of pink on her friend’s agenda. Pippa placed her bounty, which turned out to be separate packages tied to each other with twine, on one such “touch,” a blanket that Hecate had bought her. As Hecate scrambled on board the blanket, the twine made a break for it, packages tumbling over. One landed in her lap. She picked one up. Turned it over, already knowing.

“From Daddy and Mummy (and Spot),” she recited, but Pippa was already reaching for the other one.

“Then - ?” She held it, palpated it – then promptly turned pink herself. “Shit.”

Hecate, shocked by the swearing, slid the package from her grasp. It was smaller than the Pentangles’, lumpy, overly taped. _Miss Pentangle_ in bulky black pen scrawled over the front. Like a kid with a marker. Or a boy. “Ah.”

“ _Shit_!”

“Indeed. Nathaniel?”

Pippa blew her fringe out of her eyes. “Yeah,” she breathed. Then, to Hecate’s surprise, “Oh, _Hecate_!”

Hecate watched as Pippa snatched the package back from her to twirl it around the bed before flinging herself next to her friend with a gushing sigh. Bemused, she extracted it for the second time, placing it to one side. “Maybe we should open your family’s first, hm?”

“Oh. Yes.” Nudging Nathaniel’s package behind her, Pippa arranged herself properly on the blanket before reaching for the larger one. She opened it to reveal a tea-towel in to which the Pentangles had bundled some magazines, a sparkly white nail polish, the new Calvin Klein perfume _Obsession_ , a slab of Victoria sponge in a tin, and, touchingly, a novel for Hecate.

Pippa exclaimed gently over each item, but with no heat behind it. Hecate knew from her squirming that she just wanted to get to Nathaniel’s package. It was time for Hecate to take her novel, and take her leave.

Pippa snatched her back by the wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Giving you some privacy.” Hecate tilted her head at the elephant in the room.

Pippa flushed at the notion that whatever was in it would require privacy, but Hecate knew that she was more excited by it than nervous. “Silly thing. It’s only Nate. Sit!”

A low blow to Hecate’s bruised heart – it was bad enough to know of this next step of Pippa’s relationship with Nathaniel, but to have to _watch_ would take more from her than she was able to give. “It’s fine,” she said, brandishing the novel. “This is bound to be much more entertaining.”

“Ha ha.”

“I mean it. Papa Pentangle won’t thank you for holding me back from the review that he’s expecting by the end of the week.”

Pippa patted the space that Hecate had vacated. “Daddy is a patient man. Sit!”

Hecate started to protest but Pippa, apparently having not inherited the same level of patience, was already tearing at the paper. _A token protest, then. Great._ She sat, not wanting to risk having to explain why she had left later, once the excitement of the morning had faded (if it would; Hecate suspected that she would be hearing about this for a long time). Pippa gently folded back the last layer of paper.

“Oh.”

“What is it?” Hecate blurted in spite of herself.

Pippa hesitated for a moment before turning it around. In it lay a locket, polished gold poured around a gem that beat just like a heart. Hecate knew the type of Magic involved; the pulsing of the stone, working as an eternal reminder of a loved one from which one had to be separated, would last until either those involved were reunited or the love of one or the other faded. Hecate rarely lamented the existence of Magic, but she was now. _Alright, Romeo, we get it._

Pippa was opening the locket. Hecate saw the front half first, which simply held a piece of paper on to which a few lines from the famous E. E. Cummings poem _I Carry Your Heart_ was scrawled. The other half, which Pippa held at a suspicious slant, was a mystery. Hecate extracted a finger to tilt it toward her.

“When did you take that picture?”

It was a photograph of Pippa with Nathaniel, in a ray of blinding light – Pippa was squinting, trying to shade her eyes, whilst Nathaniel had a pair of Ray-Bans hanging from his T-shirt (beneath a questionable surfer-style beaded necklace). Pippa leaned back on him, head tucked to his neck. Her hair flowed over one bare shoulder like spun gold. They were laughing.

“Oh, this?” Pippa said, weakly, tilting it back. Her eyes remained fixed on it, a smile hovering at the edge of her mouth. “This was last Friday. Remember, that random heat-wave? I met him over lunch for a picnic.”

“Lunch?” Hecate remembered spending the period perfecting her end-of-year potion, the presentation of which was sooner than the rest of her peers, she knew, were prepared for. “Ah.”  

“There’s a blossom tree, er, blossoming on the grounds at Murdock’s at the moment,” Pippa explained. Her voice was gentle with the memory. She met Hecate’s eyes for the first time since opening his gift. “Hiccup! You should – you would love it.”

“I’d rather not encroach upon your… erm, personal memories,” Hecate managed.

To Hecate’s surprise, that made Pippa throw herself back with a theatrical flounce, face-palming to hide her blushes. “Oh, Hiccup, how did you _know_?!” she groaned.

Hecate felt a wave of ice wash over her. Paralysed to the spot, a few minutes trickled by before she was able to verbalise the theory that had formulated in her mind. “Pippa – with Nathaniel – did you –?”

It made sense. It made perfect sense. The gift. The heightened sense of secrecy as of late. The swooning. Pippa had turned 16 not long ago; surely, this is what being 16 _meant_. Hecate had never entered territory this grown-up before. Reality was warping before her very eyes. She felt herself wanted to shake with the shock of it, but forming a fist helped.

Pippa squirmed. “Nothing like that.”

“What? _What_?”

“He – we were kissing, and he only – well, he only – ”

“Pippa,” Hecate pleaded.

After a moment, Pippa lay a palm over her breast. “Don’t freak out. He felt me here, OK? Only here.”

“Like – ” Hecate faltered, floundered. “Skin-on-skin?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

This was never how she had imagined losing her best friend – but how else? Pippa was joining the masses, becoming a woman, just as she was meant to, just as everyone else was, or would, in time. There was no way to stop it. She had joined the other half now, leaving behind Agony Aunties and pimples and trading homework for bottles of vodka for a grope beneath a blossom tree. When private time with someone was kept private instead of boasted about, that was it. The worst part was that Pippa had kept it a secret from Hecate without _meaning_ to, in particular – it was evident that sharing it with her had simply never entered her mind. Gone was a time when Hecate’s opinion on an outfit as she paraded before a mirror was law, gone was braiding her hair or trying to give her the perfect French manicure or playing MASH on repeat until every prediction related to Nathaniel. Pippa was handling this on her own, now. Like an adult.

And adults didn’t have best friends.

 

 _The one exception to that_ , Hecate thought, back on the blanket just over a month later, watching as Pippa tried to squirm her way out of a gown that she should have known would never fit her, _was the End of Year Ball_.

Hecate had selected her own outfit a while ago – a simple black piece with an overly modest fit, embroidered with _Atropa belladonna_ in silver thread, with some jewellery that she liked to believe had once belonged to her Mother. She played with the emerald now, nervous for Pippa’s reaction as she flung the latest reject on to the rapidly-growing pile.

“I! Hate! Being! _Fat_!” Pippa finished her rant with a particularly furious stomp of her foot.

Hecate, not wanting to say _You’re not fat_ , firstly because it implied that fat was something not to be, and secondly because it would have been a lie, settled for, “Look, we still have the rest of the evening. We’ll go see if Miss Newt will let us out on a last-minute trip to town. Between the two of us, we’re bound to find something that will – ”

“Hecate Hardbroom, if you say “fit,” so help me – ”

“ _Flaunt your figure_ ,” Hecate finished.

“Hmph.” Pippa sniffed. “I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

Pippa was standing in just her underwear, which Hecate was trying her best not to notice, and pinched at a particularly lovely plump wave of flesh that Hecate was trying her best not to want to hold. “What would fit _this_?”

“Oh, please! Going on like you’re some sort of beached whale. So you’re a bit pudgy. What of it? You’re the most popular girl in the year. Your boyfriend is the most popular boy in _his_ year. You’re only one size larger than these lot.” She waved at the pile.” Would have saved us a lot of trouble if you’d faced reality going in, I’m just saying.”

“So I _am_ fat?!” Pippa wailed.

Hecate sighed a long sigh before resigning herself to an even longer evening of playing therapist.

 

One hour later, Pippa was giving Hecate a twirl wearing Hecate’s Deadly Nightshade gown.

Having hung from Hecate’s near-skeletal frame, it fit her friend like a glove, the length rescued by gathering the material at her waist to be held in place by a beautiful pearl pin. _Oh, she was breath-taking._ Hecate stared, and stared, and stared.

“Oh, Hiccup! _Thank_ you!”

She managed to tear her eyes from the vision before her just as Pippa twirled to a halt. Sat in just her T-shirt tucked in to a pair of torn black tights, she blushed at the ground. “That’s OK. You look great.”

“Don’t I just?” Pippa plumped her hair at her reflection, apparently recovered from her bout of insecurity. “Now, for the finishing touch.”

Hecate winced as Pippa put Nathaniel’s locket back on, not realising that she was visible in the mirror.

Pippa turned as she fastened it in place. “What?”

“It just doesn’t go, that’s all,” Hecate replied. It wasn’t a lie – the garish gold-and-red of the locket did nothing for it.

“What’s fashion in the face of true love?” Pippa was back to smiling at herself. “Besides, your necklace won’t exactly match this selection.” She gestured at the pile.

“What do you mean?” Hecate blinked.

“What, were you thinking to sacrifice your place at the Ball to give me something to wear? Silly thing. You know that noble act won’t work on me. You’re tiny. With some adjustment, at least one gown in that pile will hold up on you. We haven’t long left, take your pick.”

Hecate stared at the sparkling heap. “Pippa. No.”

“Hecate. Yes.”

“No, no, no. You’re not making _me_ show up at the _Year 3 Ball_ wearing one of these monstrosities. You know very well how mean our year can be. I would never hear the end of it. Pippa, you _wouldn’t_.”

“You honestly think that I would let any of them near you?”

Hecate scowled. _Damn it – why did Pippa have to speak like that?_ “It’s not about – it’s about the _stares_ , Pipsqueak. The whispering.”

“They wouldn’t.” The _Not with me by your side_ went un-spoken, Pippa sensing that now was the wrong time to boast about her social status. “Even if they made fun, what of it? We leave for home soon. Nobody is going to spend their holiday thinking of what you wore to the Ball.”

 _Ouch_.

“Apart from me, that is,” Pippa smiled.

“Why do you – ” _Say one thing, and mean a much lighter thing?_ “Why would you?”

A shadow seemed to pass over Pippa’s face as she regarded her reflection. “Because I’m your best friend, of course,” she murmured.

The awkward silence was broken by Pippa’s timer beeping to mark having a half-hour left before they were expected at the Great Hall. She sprung in to action, leaning over to rummage around in the pile. “There must be _something_ in here - !”

Hecate watched the sway of her locket, lowered her eyes guiltily to where Pippa was at risk of revealing more than she had bargained for as she bent over; and felt faintly sick.

 

Hecate entered the Great Hall for the start of the Year 3 Ball, exactly half an hour later, sweaty palm to sweaty palm with her best friend (or body guard, by the way Pippa tensed every time someone looked their way or the tail end of a snigger floated by) wearing a particularly shocking white puff of satin that gaped stupidly over her non-existent bust, bound her waist with an over-sized pearlescent bow, and ended just above her bare, bony, bruised knees.

Well, Pippa had summed it up perfectly.

_What is fashion in the face of true love?_


	4. 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If I could take you to another world_  
>  where just you and I could learn to live together.  
> If we could leave behind the memories of  
> how our love was lost like hidden treasure,  
> to be found again in some forgotten place  
> where we learn again to read each other’s faces.
> 
> Love Me - The Free Design ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMk-sGRtuYU))

Hecate only ventured to the market to replenish the pantry in her private wing very early on a Sunday morning, when most people were sure to be in bed. She enjoyed a nice lie-in as much as the next teacher, but the thought of the _other people_ had her plaiting her hair, swinging a basket over her elbow, and heading to town with a spring in her step at first light fortnightly without fail.

This Sunday morning was a particularly pleasant one; Hecate preferred walking to flying in warmer weather, and surprised herself by finding a suitable tune to hum as she navigated the inclines of the mountain. The basket bounced merrily at her hip, as if anticipating that it was soon to be packed to the brim with groceries. Hecate extracted a towel from it now, to wipe at the sweat beading on the back of her neck from the exertion as she neared the market-place.

Victorian Square was self-explanatory, an older section of town only slightly ravaged by modern times, and it was where the market had been held since Hecate had first landed at Cackle’s. She remembered one trip as a First Year, back in the 80s; once old enough to be let out un-supervised, everyone tended to prefer populating the trendier areas, and Hecate was to visit it for the second time only some 25 years later when she was first made a teacher. Today, gone were the heavy-set house-wives nattering loudly among themselves, pushing one baby in a pram whilst the nine behind them ran riot – now, Hecate was free to plough on in peace.

She stocked her basket with fish for Morgana, some fruit, a jar of honey, mince, vegetables. Once she retired to her own patch of land, she would be responsible for her own produce, but for now farm-bought would have to suffice. She bargained over a length of satin to replace her fraying broom-tie. She found a gap in which to wedge a pastry for Ada at the very last minute, just as more people began to filter in. Pinching a bundle of grapes for the journey, Hecate started back to the mountain.

The last stall that Hecate passed as she left Victorian Square was the florist’s. Once owned by a giant of a man, it was now manned by a lady eating a sausage roll like it was her last five minutes of peace on Earth. Hecate hesitated, not wanting to pause lest she be forced in to guilt-buying some; but satisfied that the poor woman, having moved on to shovelling a bag of Monster Munch, was otherwise occupied, she let herself slow to a halt by a spray of palest pink petal.

She brushed her palm over the flower. It was soft as velvet. The fragrance that floated forth was heavenly, made her shut her eyes for a moment as she was transported. “How much for these?”

“The peonies?” With one final swig from a mug, the lady wiped the back of her hand over her mouth before standing. “How many, love?”

“ _Peonies_ ,” Hecate repeated to herself. “Er, a bouquet?”

“Large bouquet’s a fiver.”

Hecate bought a half-bouquet on the spot, scrambling in her pocket for the required £2.50. She handed it right over. She wasn’t worried about how to take her peonies home, since there was no space left in the basket. She wanted to hold them to her. Let the warmth of her breathe life in to each shy bud.

“Good luck with this lot,” Hecate found herself saying with a jerk of her head at the burgeoning stampede as she picked up her prize.

The woman gave a burst of laughter. “Ta, love. I’ll need it.” She turned back to her pruning.

Hecate’s grin felt strange on her face as she left the Square, but it wouldn’t budge. _I spoke to a stranger of my own volition, and I said the right thing_ , she praised herself. _I stocked up on what I need, and the weather is just right, and I’m seeing Pippa today_.

_I’m seeing Pippa today._

Hecate glanced at the bundle nestled in her other elbow. Baby pink peonies, nearly white in the bright glare of mid-morning. _Probably not pink enough for her_ , Hecate mused, remembering the shocking shades that Pippa seemed to have favoured as of late, _I should have bought something bolder_. Refusing to abandon her whimsical purchase, however, she held them tighter as she reached the main gate, vowing to put them to some good use before her friend arrived.

Once back in her wing, Hecate organised her larder, replaced her old broom-tie with the new one, and let her sweaty leisure-wear slink to the ground as she went to take a shower. For the sake of the occasion, she yielded reluctantly to the foolish urge to pamper herself, and laughed as she slathered her skin with a balm that she had made from the lavender that was grown in the walled garden reserved for Staff use only. With the perfume wafting forth from the peonies, temporarily placed in a bucket of water by an open window, her space was fragrant with the scent of Spring. The very brick seemed to hum with expectation. _Pippa_ , each bouncing flower-head whispered, _Pippa_ , _Pippa_.

Hecate’s smile turned to a frown as she sat in her towel before the mirror. Her hair remained plaited, not as severe a style as her usual bun but giving the same general air of formality. Sighing, she brushed it out, then re-plaited it to form a loose braid that hung heavily over one shoulder. It was nice, but a moment later the weight of it at her neck irked her, and she found herself brushing it out once more. She went instead to her wardrobe, where she made a show of selecting an outfit that she had in reality picked out a while ago (and fretted over since); a jade blouse, a shade brighter than what she was used to, with a light skirt, midi-length but which she folded a few times at the waist to make shorter. Not yet brave enough to go bare-legged, she pulled on a newer pair of tights before returning to the mirror.

One palm over her stomach to quiet the butterflies, she regarded her reflection. Fashion was never her _forte_ , but this would have to do either way. She retrieved her emerald, fixed it in place around her neck, and returned to her seat. “Now. Hair,” she said to herself. Her voice was rough with neglect, but it reminded her of having spoken to the florist earlier, and the memory gave her a very gentle, but very much required, surge of bravery. She would let it out, save for a braid on either side to hold her mane of waves in place. _Yes_.

Morgana startled Hecate by blundering her way in with a particularly irate _Meow_ just as Hecate was tying one braid to the other behind her head. It made her think to glance at her watch.

Half an hour left.

A sour sensation started to spread from the pit of her stomach to just behind her sternum. Shaking just slightly, she fetched her spoiled familiar a bowl of milk, not as likely to pollute her living space as the stench of mackerel, before taking a seat at the end of her bed to wait. She tucked her forehead to her knees, a tactic that she used to prevent herself from having to react to more stimuli than she was able to when overly nervous, and shut her eyes. Focused on the pressure of bone-on-bone as she pushed. _Why had she agreed to this?_ The panicked beat of her heart. _When would she stop lying to herself?_ The never-ending black. _When, oh when, would she just learn to say No to Pippa Pentangle?_

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa _AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH_ – !”

Hecate wasn’t sure whether her or Morgana shrieked louder as a blur of magenta slammed itself in to the window-pane with enough force to shake the whole tower. As the shape slid away with a squeak, Hecate rushed over. She shoved at the window, which flew open to reveal a sheepish-looking Pippa hanging by her manicure from the sill below.

“Pippa?!” Hecate gasped.

Pippa squinted up at her from beneath the rim of her hat. “Hecate. I’m a little early, I know.”

“What – what _happened_?”

“The light on the window made it look like it was open. I thought that I’d glide right in. Apparently not. Whose window is this clean, seriously? Wash them every morning, do you?”

“Forgotten how to fly, have you?” Hecate hit back.

Pippa laughed. “By the time I noticed, it was too late to turn. Seen my broom?”

“Next sill over.”

“Ah!”

Hecate stumbled back, and a moment later Pippa was floating before her. She tilted her hip to fly in, having to bend slightly to prevent the point of her hat from brushing the spider-web framing the window. Landing elegantly on the point of her shoes, she gave Hecate a one-armed hug before parking the broom that she held in the other.

“Dear Hiccup!” she exclaimed, looking around the room like it was her first visit. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Touches of blue, very becoming – and – why, are these _peonies_?”

Hecate made some motion to stop Pippa from rushing over, but held herself back when she saw how reverently the woman was treating them. She blew out. “They’re – they’re for you,” she managed.

Pippa whirled back around. “For _me_?”

“I mean – what I mean to say is – well – ”

“Because these are for you!” Pippa removed her hat to pull from it a bunch of purple star-shaped flowers.

Hecate received them without thinking. “ _Atropa belladonna_ ,” she breathed, holding like a baby; then, thrusting it back out – “Deadly Nightshade?”

Pippa rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Not real, obviously. A Magical mimic.”

“But – why?”

Pippa’s face fell. Hecate, hyper-aware of the silence, felt her scalp prickle with tension.

“You don’t remember?”

“No… What is it that I’m not remembering?”

Pippa, glancing at the necklace lying at the open _V_ of Hecate’s blouse, half-laughed. “You were wearing that on the night, too.”

“What night?” Hecate took a step back without meaning to, nearly standing on Morgana’s tail.

“Well, why peonies, Hecate?”

“I don’t – I don’t know – ” _They reminded me of_ – ?

A beat.

Pippa shivered out of the tension shrouding them, flashing Hecate a bright smile. “Never mind that! I’ll just pop these in some water, shall I?” She retrieved her gift from Hecate’s limp grasp as she headed over to the sink.

Hecate watched her as she bustled about. She forced herself to relax. With a shake of her head, she tried to re-start the morning. “So. Ready to go?”

“Go where?” Pippa turned from where she was making a show of arranging the bouquet, bracing herself on the sill. “Why, I’ve only just arrived!”

“I thought that maybe, what with the nice weather, we might venture in to the forest.”

“The forest? What’s in the forest?”

Hecate stared at her shoes. “There’s a lake,” she replied. “I bought stuff for a picnic, and – and there’s something that I want to show you.”

With a flick of her wrist, Pippa was standing before Hecate looking like a ranger in a white shirt tucked in to pink shorts.

“Lead the way!”

 

Hecate led Pippa to the lake, taking the scenic route. They talked over each other as they walked, eager to share stories of everything that was going on in their lives – they had re-united, yes, but Hecate’s anxiety with Pippa’s busier schedule as Head made for long stretches of time apart ( _which would only_ , Hecate mused, _be solved by one of us moving_ , and tried not to let the thrill of the thought get to her; there would be time enough for that later).

When she reached her favourite spot, she lay out the blanket. Pippa gushed over the view, Hecate surprised herself by replying with something smooth, and they sat smiling stupidly at each other for a moment until a stow-away Morgana leapt out of the basket, making them laugh. Hecate scooped her familiar up to hide her blushes in her shining black fur whilst Pippa opened the basket, laying out fruit, a rhubarb pie that Ada had baked for the occasion yesterday evening when Hecate had informed her of her plan, salad, sandwiches, a big flask of tea. As Hecate watched her friend tuck in, she felt a surge of joy. There was only one more thing to get right.

The Witches ate in easy silence. Morning turned to noon, the forest bathed in light that, filtered by the leaves above, shone in patches over the ground like gold. The heat was very nearly a physical presence that pulsed around them, but just about bearable, half-shaded as they were; yet Hecate, trying to fan herself with a paper plate but not having much luck, at last surrendered to the relief of shoving her hair in to a bun that left the moist back of her neck blessedly exposed. Pippa snatched the make-shift fan from her a moment later, forcing Hecate to glance over – a glance that turned to a stare when she saw that her friend’s eyes were shut as she stretched out to tan, blouse hanging half-open from one shoulder, mouth rhubarb-stained, toes squirming in the air.

Just like that, Hecate was hit by a bolt of want of a like that she had _never_ before experienced.

A picture formed in her mind like a splinter – of the belly beneath the slightly translucent shirt, of that most vulnerable place, and just placing her palm over it as it moved –of how warm the skin just beneath her jaw, that wrinkled area of her neck, would be. Of what it would be like to lean over her, watch her eyes blink open to the shade, shivering, reaching for the gape of her blouse, before focusing on Hecate. Hecate would let her hair tumble out, would lower herself just enough for their proximity to make her head spin, stroking Pippa’s frown with the pad of her thumb until a some sort of relieved but wary smile formed beneath it before lowering herself further –  

 _I want to be touched_ , she thought, _I want to be touched_. She felt a wad of emotion rising within her, a hysterical laugh at the very notion of _her_ making the first move, or a sob that echoed the ache in her soul. _Just an arm around my waist. A stroke along my spine that settles at the small of my back. Just a hand in mine._ “Pipsqueak,” she whispered around it.

When Pippa turned her head, her eyes remained shut, for which Hecate with her red face – which she was sure had the pictures in her mind scrawled over it – was grateful. “Mm?”

Hecate pinched her mouth shut, not sure, now that she had Pippa’s attention, quite what to say. It was foolish of her to believe that they were in this together – for all that she knew, Pippa’s mind was on a new outfit or a particularly problematic student or maybe a special someone, however hard the thought made Hecate scowl. There was no _moment_. It was her mind playing a trick on her, was the silence that she felt had shrouded them when Hecate had first glanced over. The rustling of the leaves over-head had not slowed. The robin had not held his breath. _Wishful thinking._ “Nothing.”

“Not nothing.” Now Pippa was staring at her. “What were you going to say?”

Hecate glared at her lap. “Just – well, I – I brought us here for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“I have – I’ve wanted to – there’s a place,” Hecate started, before looking up, exasperated. “Let’s just go, please? It will be easier to explain when we’re there.”

 “Alright.” There was a very slight edge to Pippa’s smile as she made a show of brushing herself off, but she got to her feet easily enough. “Lead the way,” she said, sticking a hand out for Hecate’s.

Hecate ignored it in favour of shoving the remains of the picnic back in the basket, rising to her own feet a moment later. She batted furtively at the leaves sticking to her skirt as Pippa put her shoes back on, hoping that she wouldn’t try to step in, only to receive a pat to the bottom on bending to fold the blanket. She straightened at once, blushing furiously.

“What? There was a twig on your arse,” Pippa laughed before starting off empty-handed.

Hecate was left to stumble behind her holding the basket, the blanket, and a very irritated Morgana. In spite of this, she smiled. Spoiling Miss Pippa Pentangle like this made her feel whole. Her girl. That much, at least, had never changed.

 

 

A few minutes later, Hecate was standing in a more isolated part of the forest, the ground beneath them thick with mud that hadn’t yet baked. Pippa hovered a few metres behind her.

“Nature gone wild,” Pippa mumbled, thwacking at a particularly gnarly bush as she neared.

“Nature _is_ wild,” Hecate replied, focusing on the space before her. With a murmur beneath her breath, she waved.

The air started to shift.

She stumbled back, nervous, as an astonished Pippa blundered forth, until they were standing side-by-side, watching as a picture began to emerge.

At first the air shimmered, like a mirage in the heat, not making much sense to the naked eye. A moment later it solidified, tumbling to the ground like a length of fabric to reveal –

 “This is my lair,” Hecate said, lamely.

Pippa, slack-jawed, turned to stare at Hecate, then at the once-empty piece of land on which they were standing, which now boasted a garden with a _picket fence_ around a stone hut.

“Your _what_?”

“My house,” she said. “My house in the forest. Remember, that we used to talk about at school?” Not able to bring herself to look at Pippa, she started up the path. The beat of her heart, the trembling of her bones, the rasp of her breath quietened with each step; her soul at once recognised a sense of safety. An aura of total peace blanketed her as every troublesome part of her life faded, melted, vanished to black. _Welcome home, Hecate._

She imagined that this was what having a Mother felt like.

She was hyper-aware of Pippa lingering behind her on the threshold, as if waiting to be swept over like a bride. Hecate pushed the thought from her mind as she bustled about, busying herself with switching her potion pot for her tea pot to brew some leaves.

“It’s lovely,” Pippa said, letting herself in at last as she looked around. “How long have you had this place?”

Hecate ignored the question, trying to see what Pippa was seeing. The living room, her pride, her joy – the black-and-white tiled floor, the nearly thread-bare rug whose pattern was only revealed when the lamp was on, the exposed stone feature wall boasting a fire-place with an iron stove beneath which Morgana was already snoring. A framed painting of the river. One shelf of bric-a-brac, one shelf of literature. The skeleton of a bird on the mantle-piece, next to a preserved scorpion. A vase holding a single lily. One small window with smudged panes bursting out of a frame that had bloated in the heat, weakening the light that laboured in. She had built a house in which nature was invited, a house that mimicked simpler times, but it was but a shadow in the heat. Murky. She led her friend to the kitchen, which was brighter.

Bending to evade a bundle of hanging parsley, Pippa inspected the low-set basin. She scraped a nail over Hecate’s table-for-one, peered out of the window as she sucked the resulting splinter out. “Hm,” she said when she found the key to the garden. Hecate, back turned to her as she washed the pot, listened to her switching her shoes for a pair of mud-streaked Wellies before vanishing. She imagined Pippa’s petite feet sliding about in her Size 7s as she explored the vegetable patch. She had to smile.

“ _Oh_!”

Hecate let the pot go, splashing leaves over the sink, and rushed to the step. To her relief, Pippa was just bending over a pyramid-shaped structure of wire at the very back of the garden. Seeing Hecate, she waved. “Who’s this!”

Hecate wanted to go out to her, but her want for tea was stronger. “Big Ben the hen,” she shouted back, which made Pippa laugh. “Benjamina. Let her out if you want! Has she laid?”

“I just had my nails done,” Pippa grimaced, apologetic, which just made Hecate smile harder with a shake of her head. She would investigate later. She heard the latch go at least as she replaced the old leaves with fresh ones, a grateful _Bawk bawk bawk_ reaching her before Pippa re-appeared.

“Wow,” she said. “Flower patch at the front, vegetable patch at the back. Big Ben the hen. Hiccup, this is _brilliant_!”

Hecate knew in that moment that she was right to bring her here. Just like that, the last traces of reservation vanished. “Thank you,” she said.

“Will you answer my question?”

“What question?”

“Since when – ?”

Hecate went to light a fire over which to boil the pot, losing the rest of it. When she returned, Pippa had selected a mug for herself. She held it out. Hecate’s favourite.

“Some other time,” Hecate promised, taking it. She found one for herself, thankful for Pippa’s silence, and they returned to the living room. There was no way for this to be the moment to remind either of them of the last time that they would ever see each other as young Witches. There was something much more important to accomplish right now.

Hecate’s heart was pounding as she sat before the hearth in her single recliner, a beat-up black thing that she had salvaged from a skip. She remembered Ada’s advice as she handed her the pie last night. _Just be honest; it’s her favourite thing about you._

Pippa went to stand in the empty space next to her, watching Hecate expectantly. It went against her nature to have her friend stand whilst she sat, but it was part of the plan. The water finished boiling, sooner than she would have liked; removing the pot, she poured tea for Pippa before herself. A lightly-perspiring Pippa put the fire out, wandered back to the kitchen to find milk (and probably sugar, although she would never admit to it), and returned with a biscuit on a saucer.

Hecate threw back a shot of tea to fortify her. _It was time_. “Won’t you join me?” she said, gesturing.

Pippa laughed as she looked around her. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

 _The magic question_. Hecate exhaled. “Just – trust me. Just sit.”

Pippa narrowed her eyes, but having to place her trust in Hecate seemed to have worked because, still holding her mug, she started to lower herself to a seated position.

Hecate’s eyes flashed. A swirl of smoke shot around Pippa’s torso, winding around the bend of her lower half to veil an object that was starting to form. A bang, and – “Oh!” Pippa shrieked as she found herself sat in a modern two-seater sofa of the softest pink weave with a fetching white trim.

It glared garishly from the general gloom surrounding it, sticking out like a sore thumb.

It was hideous.

It was _perfect_.

“What’s this?” Pippa gasped as she put her mug to one side, bouncing, stroking the fabric beneath her, open-mouthed, before looking over at Hecate; “What’s this!”

“It’s – it’s – ” Hecate abandoned her tea as well. _Here was the hardest part._ She shut her eyes, sure that the pounding of her heart was visible behind her shirt. “I built this place by myself. Every plant, every stone, every tile. Whatever I was able to grow or make, I did.” She opened her eyes. “The sofa was the first thing that I _bought_ , with money. The very first thing. The whole house was un-furnished, and I thought, _well_. _First, I need somewhere for us to sit_. I went to a furniture shop in town – I saw it in the window – well, I just _knew_ , that was all.”

Pippa made some noise at the very back of her throat.

Hecate pushed on. “It sat there for a month, by itself, as I used the remainder of my sabbatical to finish the rest of the house. I felt no need to furnish this space. Our sofa – it was enough, for a long time. It was enough. I would sit there every night, with my supper, and just imagine – I would imagine – ”

“This doesn’t make _sense_ ,” Pippa blurted, at the same time as Hecate said,

“I just wanted to build a home for us.”

Pippa’s laugh, when it escaped, sounded suspiciously wet. “Hiccup,” she burbled, “it’s _pink_.”

“Pipsqueak,” Hecate replied. Her eyes stung. “It’s for _you_.”

 

A short while later, Hecate found herself sat next to Pippa on their sofa, which they had pushed the recliner out of the way to make more space for. Pippa was talking quietly of various ideas that she wanted to implement around the home (nothing wildly removed from Hecate’s usual tastes, she promised, but she wouldn’t mind larger window, a bay window for example); Hecate was mainly just staring at her, not quite able to believe her luck.

Mid-way to explaining what sort of seating she wanted to introduce to the back garden, Pippa shivered. The heat of the morning had waned, leaving behind a balmier atmosphere. Hecate got to her feet to start a fire.

As she kneeled before the hearth, Pippa quietened behind her before piping up, “Are you seriously not going to tell me, then?”

“Tell you what?”

“When you started making a home for yourself. What prompted you to find this place, to build it at last. How you manage to hide it. The whole story.”

Hecate’s heart sank slightly at an ever-oblivious Pippa’s use of _yourself_. It would take a while for the meaning of her revelation to sink in, she knew – if her friend even wanted it to. Still, it would not do to start thinking like this, not now. She was sharing Pippa’s sofa with her at last; no need to sabotage the moment by asking for more. If Pippa wanted it, she would have inferred it. She sighed. “Only if you tell me what you were talking about this morning,” she replied, just to scratch the itch.

“Huh?”

“The Deadly Nightshade. My peonies.” Hecate prided herself on being brave enough to sit back next to her in that moment, even if some part of her felt like shaking out of her skin,  nervous not for asking the question but because she had no idea what the answer would be. “What am I not remembering?”

Pippa smiled, but it was a weird smile. “It’s not something that I’m _hiding_ from you. I’m just genuinely surprised that you don’t remember the _End Of Year Ball_ , that’s all.”

A scar of black streaked along Hecate’s vision like the skid-mark of a vehicle spinning over ice.

Pippa moaned on the end of a gasp that sounded like it was punched from her very soul as she realised. “The _Year 3_ Ball,” she amended, “I meant the Year 3 Ball.”

“Oh,” Hecate trembled, shaking for real, now. She bent her head to her lap, nauseous with the force of the memory that hit her with Pippa’s phrasing. “ _Oh_.”

“The Year 3 Ball,” Pippa kept pleading, as if it would rewind time. “ _Hecate_.”

_Move on. Move on. Move on._

Hecate straightened. She shut her eyes to focus on her breathing. “The Year 3 Ball,” she told herself. She opened her eyes, saw Morgana starting to stir, one paw flexing. The evening light glinted from a particularly sharp nail. She imagined it slicing the tension in the air to pieces small enough to sweep with her broom. “Alright. OK.”

“You were just – _generous_ ,” Pippa started, sounding like she was speaking in spite of herself. “So generous. To me. Like this, now. All of it, for me. Every single thing.”

Hecate hung her head.

“Do you want to know what you did for me?”

“I have to get back to Cackle’s,” Hecate whispered. “It’s late.”

“You were wearing this _beautiful_ gown,” Pippa blathered on. “Deadly Nightshade. Well, remember how big I was, or thought that I was? You let me wear it when nothing else fit, and you wore this – ”

“Meringue,” Hecate finished, remembering. She felt a smile tug at the edge of her scowling mouth.

“For _me_ ,” Pippa breathed. “That’s what I remembered, this morning. I wanted to show you that how kind you were – _are_ – to me, I will _never_ forget. You see?”

“The necklace?”

“You kept it on, wore it with the meringue. It went horribly. I admired that.”

Hecate felt her stomach sour as the memory returned. _What is fashion in the face of true love?_ She breathed out. “I _forgot_ all of this? _Why_?”

The same thought entered each mind at the same time, and Pippa pressed her mouth shut.

 _One last thing._ “What about the peonies?”

“Never mind about the peonies.” Pippa stared at her as if willing her to understand. “Never mind about the peonies, Hecate.”

 _Ah_. That _was the Year 4 Ball_.

“Remember now? I was meant to go with… goodness, what _was_ his name?”

“You know very well what his name was.” For some reason, this irritated Hecate. “Nathaniel Nox. _Nate_.”

“Oh, relax! I was only saying it to make you feel better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hecate just wanted out of this ridiculous stumble along Memory Lane, now.

Pippa laughter faltered on seeing Hecate’s lack of amusement. Her eyes narrowed. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just that we saw it from miles away, all of us.”

Hecate felt like she had just had a bucket of ice thrown over her.

“Saw what?”

“Why, Hecate,” Pippa said, her voice taking on an edge that made her sound like a stranger to her own best friend. “You were _jealous_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first ever CLIFF-HANGER! Don’t worry re: Pip’s behaviour, all shall be revealed.
> 
> Sorry for how long this took! I’m not able to write when my family are at home but it’s been busier than usual as of late in this house. I genuinely had to write this sentence-by-sentence whenever I had one second to myself. At this point, I’m tempted just to find some private place far away, pack my bag and go. Hm… one-woman writing retreat?


	5. 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Wake up,_  
>  go put on your make up,  
> this is just a phase you're gonna out-grow. 
> 
> _The Village_ \- Wrabel ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xq8mt6WuD-E))

The morning of the Year 4 Ball was a beautiful one. It was late June, and Pippa woke just in time to watch it start to break over the playing field that stretched out beneath her tower. She lay there for a few minutes, watching the play of light over the sequined sash of her Ball gown where it hung from a hanger hooked on to a bed-post, and imagined how the night would go. It felt good to be on the very edge of life like this – but the thrill of it was making her nervous, and there would be time enough for nerves later.

She turned to face the window, pushing the single sheet to her waist, then, hot with excitement, to her toes. It left her in just her nightie – a translucent slip of a thing, a gift from Nathaniel, that had become tangled about her as she slept, and now exposed much more of her than she was used to exposing – but she was 17, after all, and no-one was _here_ , and she turned from the window to stretch herself out like a star-fish, enjoying the sensation of baking in the heat like a loaf of bread. The thought made her laugh; she wondered what sort of bread she would be. A brioche. Light. Sweet. _What sort of bread would Hecate be – ?_

But with Hecate’s name in her mind now, a bird outside gave a particularly loud squawk, startling her in to a realisation of her half-naked state, and one with the other made for such a jarring sensation in the brain that she felt obliged to snatch the sheet back to hide herself. At once she was hyper-aware of the slide of skin over silk, the prickle of sweat washing over her – God, the _heat_! She squirmed this way, that way, trying to banish the images from behind her eyes, at last turning back to the view on her right. Morning had broken. She leaned over to open the window, using the fresh air to regulate her breathing as she adjusted herself surreptitiously beneath the sheet. _More baguette in paper bag than brioche, now_ she thought wryly, shrouded as she was.

Luckily, thinking of baguettes reminded her that it was time for breakfast, which was often enough to banish all else from her mind. She was able to make it from her bed to the basin with only the one paranoid glance over the shoulder; there, she gave herself a wipe-over with a wet towel, which improved the situation some. As she brushed her teeth, she gazed adoringly at her outfit for that night. _This_ was what today was about. _Not Hiccup. The Ball, the Ball_!

It was to no avail, however. Each random thought inspired a second of her best friend. For the occasion of the end of the last term, the entire School was permitted to wear whatever they liked – Pippa, not wanting Hecate to turn up in her uniform for the fourth year in a row, had asked her Mum to send along more of her wardrobe than usual in her last package and, having spent a solid week tailoring the pieces least suited to her own tastes to fit Hecate’s frame, wondered what she would now pick out. She wondered what sort of feast awaited them below, and in the same breath whether or not Hecate would eat properly for once, for the sake of the occasion. As she wondered how to style her hair, she wondered if the plea that she left with Hecate last night _not_ to brush her mane out for once had been taken to heart this morning.

She wondered – as the warning bell rang – where she was.

“I’m here!”

Hecate burst in, startling Pippa’s hair-brush in place. Pippa turned to her as she tried to tug the tangle out, expecting to see her best friend in her usual plain pyjamas with her long hair already bursting out of a plait – but finding, to her surprise, that Hecate had left her hair out for once. It tumbled irregularly over one shoulder, badly tousled but shining in the light like obsidian. Her mouth opened on a gasp. Hecate’s hair only emerged at night, when she would brush it out with such purpose – one hundred strokes, to be precise – that it frizzed about her head like a bush (with, Pippa was guilty of entertaining privately, the exact harsh texture of something rather rude). With the exception of last night, Pippa had long-ago given up on pleading with her to just let it be.

“Why, Hecate!” she beamed, leaving the brush to hang where it was.

Hecate showed her how she wasn’t able to run her fingers through it. “It’s terribly knotty, see?”

“It’s beautiful!”

“Well.”

Pippa turned back to the mirror. She wrenched at the handle of the brush as she watched Hecate wander to the bed, where Pippa had laid out her meticulously-tailored work.

“This – is this for me?”

“Mhm. Pick what you like. We have one minute.”

“ _One_ – !” Hecate’s love of punctuality won out over her instinct to put up a fight. Snatching at a few random pieces, she bolted out of sight.

Pippa, for the first time, had to remind herself not to turn around. She briefly wondered what was wrong with her this morning, but fortunately the realisation that the brush was stuck fast was starting to pre-occupy her mind.

“Hic? When you’re ready, would you mind?” She gestured at the monstrosity on the side of her head. “This is your fault, after all.”

“My fault?” Hecate appeared behind her in the mirror a few minutes later, smelling now of Pippa, which was not new, exactly, but rare. It made her toes scrunch. What was worse was when Hecate started to stroke her head, searching elegantly for the knot.

“Ever heard of knocking before you burst right in?”

“I did.” Hecate knocked her on the head with the freed brush. “More than once. That deep in thought, were you?”

“You have no idea,” Pippa mumbled beneath her breath. She gave her hair one final pat before standing. “Let’s see what you’ve picked, then!”

But Hecate had seen the time – and slid neatly out of Pippa’s reach, throwing her furry pink bag over her shoulder as she ran out. “Later!”

When the final bell rang barely one second later, Pippa had no option but to run after her.

 

Pippa only had time to give what she was feeling some serious thought later that evening, once the last lesson was over, the last meal was eaten, and the Witches were able to retreat as they pleased to shared or private living spaces to hang out or study.

It was routine by now that Pippa would spend an hour or two with the people in the other half of the year whom she rarely saw outside of teaching time, just gossiping, playing games or reading magazines, snack-sharing – whatever they fancied – whilst Hecate spent some much-required time alone in her own room to recover from the stress of socialising, which Pippa was glad to grant her. At around 7 to 8 PM every night, however, she would make her excuses, pocket one last snack for the road, either from some awe-struck younger girl eager to share or her own generous tuck-box in her room, and join her best friend for the rest of the night – that was, until each had to head to their own bed, but even then one of them would more often than not end up sneaking back.

Normal term-time in the penultimate year often saw the two Witches holed up in some secluded area of the library revising like mad, but with Hecate having sat the very last Year 4 examination (Advanced Potions, of course, ordinarily reserved for Year 5s) only that morning, and with the Ball that night to prepare for, Pippa knew that she had to make today’s round quick. She stuck her head in to the lounge to greet her usual gang, found herself stuck for a few minutes longer than she would have liked when someone launched in to a tale of how what she had just read about her horoscope fit perfectly with how her pen-pal had behaved recently, meaning, obviously, that they were meant to be, and much to her regret forgot to take a biscuit from the open selection box when she was at last able to make her escape, meaning that she had to stop at her room if she was to satisfy her now-grumbling stomach.

It was when Pippa was on her own in her room, which, sociable as she was, was a situation reserved for only very early in the morning or very late at night, that she was reminded of how she was feeling. She had meant only to grab a snack to eat on the way to visit Hecate, but now she was here, she felt exhaustion blanket her like a fog, and had to take a seat. She realised that she was wearing her usual pleasant smile, still, like a brand; when she let it go, it stung like it was etched over her like a scar, or sewn in to her skin. There was no reason _not_ to smile, she reminded herself – nothing was _wrong_ – but she was at once tired of it, and to let her features grow limp, to slacken, was a relief. She lay back, munching on an éclair as she pondered.

Lately, she had begun attributing each small revolution within herself to her favourite of theories – _growing up_. She was to turn 18 next year, after all, and one hardly expected to stay the same from the ages of 13 to 18. She was to shed her skin, and she was _excited_ to shed her skin. In a Magical sense, there would be a lot more available to her, by law, but more important was the impact that she was to have on general society, whether as a Fifth Year or once she graduated. The celebration _itself_ was to be spectacular as the possibilities ahead, as was required of the Pentangle name. People from over the land would fly in to watch her blossom, partying from midnight to Witching Hour, as was the norm. Yes – she was excited to be an adult, with none of the nerves of earlier.

So why, oh why, were the growing pains playing on her mind so?

She had first noticed how excruciatingly _hyper-aware_ she had become of every single aspect of her life. She used to be oblivious, and ignorance, of course, was bliss. Now, she would find herself holding every other thing that she did or said up to the light for examination. She wanted to know, for the first time, _why_ she felt what she felt instead of just _feeling_ it, but even feeling it in the first place was new. She used to just – float right on by, paying no notice of life. She had a plan. Life was what happened to _other people_. Or so she had thought. Until such persistent self-scrutiny had led her to the source of the problem – Hecate Hardbroom. Which was the second thing. She shared a tie with her best friend that had altered over time from fierce loyalty bursting with affection that they had not yet learned how to tame to a gentle sort of sisterly bond that she felt lived beneath her very skin, was as vital to her life as her Magic. One thing that _had_ stayed the same was how privileged Pippa felt to be Hecate’s only. But now, not a blink or a sound or a touch would escape her notice. Recently, how lovely Hecate’s one slightly wonky incisor was when she laughed out loud. The mole just beneath her shoulder, on the under-side of her left arm, where her skin was the softest. Last Saturday was new, to say the least – the lie that Pippa had told some interested party, behind her back – not quite knowing why, just knowing, with a stab of jealousy, that she wanted them _gone_. Hecate Hardbroom, not the only thought in her mind, but the brightest; the thought that every other thought led back to.

Hecate, now no longer even a girl, but a woman.

Pippa presented herself as the very image of high femininity, but beneath it was a late bloomer. Sex Ed. was for the men, she liked to think – that’s just how it was. It was Hecate, to her surprise, whose blossoming had revealed itself to Pippa in pieces over time. Yes, Pippa had the soft pink flesh, the blonde hair, the pout; yes, she was manicured, perfumed to perfection; yes, she inspired frenzies of lust wherever she went – but she was the baby. Hecate, with her natural elegance, her swan-like neck, how she could have anyone she wanted but want no-one, was the real woman. Pushing Pippa Pentangle about in her pram.

Oh, how the gleam of her eyes over whispered pillow-talk had opened Pippa’s.

Pippa gave a huge sigh. She worried at her locket, forced herself to think only of Nathaniel, poor Nathaniel. No – it wouldn’t do to visit Hecate now, in this state that she was in. She sat up. Stared at her Ball gown, which only this morning had filled her with excitement.

Yes. She would get ready by herself for once, fetching Hecate on her way to the Ball. If she was to grow up, she had to start exercising _some_ level of self-reliance.

_Well, this was going to be boring._

 

Pippa’s foray in to independent thought was going fairly well before she was interrupted by some booming voice.

“ _Wow_.”

She screamed, whirling – but it was only Nathaniel, with his head at the window, trying to shove his way in to the gap that Pippa had left open for some air.

“Oh, you great _lump_ ,” Pippa scolded, rushing over to open the window as wide as it would go.

Nathaniel pawed at her as she helped him in. She tried peeling him from her back but by now, built like a tank as he was, resistance was futile. She found herself pinned on the bed beneath him in no time.

“Mm,” he moaned, pushing her skirt out of the way to grasp at her stocking. “What have we here?”

“Move.” Pippa shoved at him, feeling a prickle of irritation in her breast. “It’s all pinned, get _off_.”

“Pinned?”

“I’m adjusting it. _Move_.”

“Fine.” Nathaniel let her go, but one minute later was at her back once more, mouthing wetly at her neck as she glared at him in the mirror. “Adjusting it to be shorter? _Tighter_?”

“Yes, if you must know,” Pippa replied, but to her own surprise found herself plucking at her skirt, wishing, now, that it were longer. She slid a pin out, finding satisfaction in Nathaniel’s groan when the satin started to expand. The man, however, was not for turning. She sighed as a questing palm slid around her front to rub her stomach as if it were a lamp from which a genie would emerge. When he met her eyes in the reflection, she was transported to the future – a future in which she was Mrs. Nox, standing just like this with her husband before the mirror of their master bedroom as he stroked her protruding belly, laughing when the squirming of their first baby of many made the skin bulge beneath his hold.

Once upon a time, it was all that she had ever wanted.

“Nate, _please_ ,” she hissed, pricking him lightly with the pin. What made it worse for her was that his reaction was as jovial as ever – groaning, throwing himself on to the bed in mock-pain before stretching out, leaning back on the head-board, and starting to palm himself lazily with a resigned shake of his head. _No harm done_ , as ever. Pippa, watching him watch her, felt a surge of _want_ to just – just – make him _rage_ , make him _realise_ –

“What are you even doing here?” she said, turning back to the mirror to make a start on her bodice.

“I’m here to take my girl to the Ball, obviously,” he replied. There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “Do you not see what I’m wearing?”

Pippa warily turned back. Yes, his fly was open, but she noted for the first time that he was wearing a proper tuxedo, with a pink pocket-square to match her outfit. “No,” she said, faintly. _How had_ she _not realised?_

“See, I brought you this.” He reached in to his trouser pocket. She winced, but he was only pulling out a flower. “A peony, apparently. Let me put it on?”

Pippa moved forward in spite of herself. He tied the stem over her wrist, winked, let her go. She stumbled back.

“Women,” he sighed, returning to the bed.

“Not quite yet,” Pippa retorted as she turned back to the mirror. “Besides, you know very well that we’re not permitted to bring people from other schools, let alone _boys_.”

“That doesn’t stop your lot.”

“Please! What am I meant to do, hide you beneath my skirt for the whole night?” This only made him raise a brow at her. She blushed at her own stupid phrasing. The prickle of irritation spiked to a new level. “Whatever. What do you mean, it doesn’t stop our lot?”

It was Nathaniel’s turn to turn serious. “What?”

“Well, how would you know what our lot do?”

Nathaniel sat up. “Wait a minute. Are you _jealous_ right now?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’ve just admitted to knowing that girls sneak boys in to the Ball. How would you know? _I_ haven’t taken you to a single one, that’s for sure.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that you’re not seriously pretending to be jealous when you very evidently don’t give a single _shit_ about me, Pippa.”

Pippa felt the accusation like a blow to the head.

“ _Excuse me_?!”

“I’m not stupid. I know when a girl has lost interest – ”

“There you go again! Who’s teaching you all of this?”

“ _Listen to me_! Have you _seen_ yourself? It takes me about ten minutes of pestering to get your attention, and once I have it I have to fight every potentially interesting thing that’s going on around us for it. The last time that we met, I had to ask you about five times what you thought of that film before you answered, and even then it was only to tell me that Hecate would have hated it. _Don’t_ even get me started on your mates. I’ve never met a more ridiculous bunch of people in my life – ”

“Are you quite finished?!” Pippa felt the panic start to rise.

“You won’t speak to me until you’re spoken to. You never touch me – no, that’s _not_ how I mean. I’m hearing from people at school that I’m not even a house-hold name around here this year. We used to be _it_ , Pippa. Now more than ever, you’re acting like every moment that we spend together is a _favour_ from you to me. What sort of relationship is that?”

Nathaniel got to his feet, straightening his tuxedo – then, with a groan of frustration, the loudest sound that Pippa had ever heard him make, he tore the bow-tie from his neck. “Fuck! I even invested in a real _bow-tie_. What a joke.”

Pippa rushed over to him. _This was not happening_. _This was simply not happening_. Having a man, having the most popular boy in his year as her man, was a huge part of her identity. Just having someone good-looking on her arm. Having someone to hold. Having someone to spoil her. Yes, at one time there was real feeling involved, but the honeymoon period had ended – wasn’t it meant to happen to everyone at some point? What of it, if theirs had ended earlier than usual? It was simply a result of their having met earlier than most people, surely. One had to – to _grow up_. Nathaniel was almost 18, or at least, that was what she kept reminding everyone, and now was the time for him to prove it. Why, they still had the rest of their lives together! A perfect proposal. A fairy-tale wedding. At least one baby, with a second on the way. She had paved a very specific path for herself a long time ago, and she was simply _not_ going to sit back whilst her _future husband_ rushed at it with a pick-axe. She pawed at him, grasping at random snatches of tuxedo as he went to the window, pleading like she was pleading for her life – because, in a way, that was how it felt. “Nate! Nate, please! Let me explain! Don’t argue with me – don’t leave me – _please_! Stay – oh, stay, say that you’ll stay – ”

Nathaniel had already shoved the window open, but paused. Framed by the light of the moon as he was, she saw for the first time what a formidable Wizard he was to make. “Make it good.”

She shivered as a blast of air hit her, but the shivering seemed to spread about her body like liquid. She held on to herself, scared that she would shake right out of her skin. “I never meant to pay more attention than Hecate than you. I never meant to spend more time with her, or talk about her more, or think about her more. It was wrong of me.” _It’s the most right thing that I’ve ever felt in my life, and I don’t understand why_. “I’ll work on it. We’re entering the next phase of our relationship – ”

“What _are_ you talking about, woman?”

Pippa gaped at him. “What?”

“I would say that old HB is the least of our worries right now, wouldn’t you?” He scoffed. “I never thought that I’d say this, but I just _do not_ understand you at times.”

Pippa’s heart picked up pace. “Is this because I won’t sleep with you right now? Look, get on the bed.” She started tearing at her gown. “Just get on the bed, _please_. We’ll go straight to the Ball as soon as you finish, I’ll find some way of hiding you – ”

“ _Seriously_?!”

“Then what is it? _What is it_?”

“The problem isn’t that you’re not interested. What sort of person would I be to fault you for that? I just don’t particularly being _strung along_. Fine – you don’t want to end it with me for some reason, and I’m just selfish enough not to argue – but it’s insulting that you won’t just _talk_ to me about it. We’re grown-up enough to be honest with each other – or at least, that’s what I thought. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I’m only human. I’m tired of telling myself that you’re just hormonal from your period, or stressed about the end of the year, or, I don’t know, even pretending to feel very little because you feel too much, because that’s what _I’m_ guilty of at times. I know that I joke about a lot, but the truth of it is that I _love_ you, Pippa. Do you know what that is?”

Pippa felt her eyes well. “I did, once,” she rasped.

Nathaniel’s eyes hardened. She knew at that moment that there was no turning back. (She wasn’t going to lose him, but it would take a long time for them to recover from this. Space was required, most likely. She had read it in a magazine. She wondered if the magazine had advice on why it felt like such a relief.) “For your information,” he said, turning back from where he had one leg out of the window, “I know that people sneak other people in to the Ball because they do it with the guys in my year. I’m not the only one with a girl, genius. I would ask you to believe me, but I know that, incredibly, it doesn’t bother you either way. I’ve wasted enough breath for one night. Get back to me when you’ve figured out what it is that you want.”

With that, he vanished.

The back of Pippa’s knees hit the edge of the bed. She sat with a thump, feeling like she was in some sort of nightmare. “No, no, no,” she heaved as she pulled each pin out of her gown, and only when the very last pin was removed did she lie back, bury her face in her pillow, and sob herself to a fretful sleep.

 

One hour later, Pippa lay staring up at nothing. She felt bad. Just bad, all over. Bleak, no longer bright. Not light. Not pure. Nothing worthy of positive emotion.

Nathaniel’s last lines floated back to her. _“Get back to me when you’ve figured out what it is that you want.”_

_Hiccup._

_Right now, I just want Hiccup_.

Pippa was surprised that one stupid argument was able to knock her like this, but maybe that was what being 17 meant. She knelt by her familiar, opening the box of éclairs from her tuck-box. “Sprinkles,” she said, “Fetch Hecate for me, and I’ll let you have the lot.”

 

Ten minutes later, Sprinkles returned with one very grumpy Witch. Hecate glared at her, smoke steaming faintly from each ear. “ _What_ ,” she said.

“Well, I’m _sorry_ ,” Pippa said out of a pinched mouth, trying not to laugh. “I wasn’t to know that you were – uh – trying on – ?”

“Shut it,” Hecate said in her hot pink leg-warmer, PE kit skirt, and powdered wig; but the scowl melted as she gave in to laughter, just as Pippa expected. “Where’ve you been? You left me to fend for myself! I ran half a mile like this!”

“Oh, Hiccup! You think that I would send _that_ fat thing to fetch you in the event of an emergency?”

They glanced over at Sprinkles, splayed out on her back with the last éclair poking out of her bulging mouth. “Oh. I rather fancied one,” Hecate replied before turning back to her. “What’s up?”

“Ugh.” Pippa sighed. “Don’t hate me?”

“Why should I?”

“I’m not sure if I should go. To the Ball.”

“ _What_?”

Pippa felt for a fever, felt her stomach with the flat of her palm, her throat, but found nothing in particular. She felt _squirmy_ , just wrong; like, for the first time in her life, she wanted to do what Hecate did when wanting some peace or space – to just get back in bed, pull the sheet over her, and lie very still, in silence, for a very long time. “I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?” Hecate held her by one bared shoulder. (Pippa, having noticed how soothing Hecate’s palm felt on her skin, realised that she was very ill indeed to be seriously entertaining the idea of holding it there with her own.)

“I feel… ” Pippa patted herself over again. It was like having an itch – once she found it, scratched it, she would feel better – but where _was_ it? “I’m not sure what’s wrong, but it’s _something_. I’m staying here.”

Hecate stared at her, slack-jawed. She gestured hotly at their get-up. “You must be joking. You couldn’t have mentioned this at some point before now? I just near-blinded myself with a mascara wand!”

“I’m not in the mood for partying, OK? Not tonight. It just doesn’t _feel_ right.”

“Well, that’s a whole hour of my life lost.”

Pippa perched gingerly next to Hecate as she sat on her bed with a slump. “You’ll still have fun, I’m sure. The teachers should be more than – ”

“Oh, that’s just perfect. As if I wasn’t weird enough. Hanging out with the staff because the only student able to tolerate me is ill.”

There was nothing for Pippa to say to that.

“There’ll be more people in this room than at the Ball once I tell them,” Hecate persisted, “and you know it. I’m not going.”

Pippa hung her head, the sour twist of Hecate’s mouth making her feel worse. The sight of the peony lying on her lap reminded her of her objective.

She sprang from the bed. “Listen, Hiccup,” she said, sliding the flower from her wrist. She held for one last moment before thrusting it out to her friend. “I wanted to give you this.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hecate said, taking it gently. Nestled in her palm, it looked much more at home. “Why?”

“Oh, I… ” At once, it felt beastly of her to say the real reason. “Well, with that on your wrist, no-one should bother you for going on your own. Just say that someone special gave it to you.”

“Thank you, Pipsqueak.” Hecate pinched a petal. “I shouldn’t be – ”

“Made to feel ashamed for being on your own, I know,” Pippa smiled, “but wouldn’t it be nice, _just this once_ , to look like you’re taken by someone?”

Hecate knew that her friend meant no harm; flushing, she started to knot the stem over the much finer bones of her left wrist. She opened her mouth, but a beat passed before she spoke. “Which is what you’re doing?”

“Yes. Sorry, what?”

“Taking me?”

When Pippa met Hecate’s eyes – warm, wide with gentle hope – she felt the blood just empty from her body.

She was saved by a brief knock before a girl stumbled in, sending a very round Sprinkles flying.

“Quickly,” the intruder gasped, speaking – much to everyone’s surprise – to Hecate. “Oh. What are you _wearing_?”

“Speak,” Hecate barked.

“OK. Keep your – uh, wig on. Stephanie tried to sneak Adriana’s big brother Antonio in to the Ball but Miss Fern has just busted them! He’s going to have to stay, now, because it’s too late to send him back to Murdock’s without waking the whole school – oh, but you’ll never guess what Miss Newt has done to teach him a lesson!”

The girl, Fenella Frost, a notorious gossip, glanced from Hecate to Pippa to gauge the level of interest and, seeing none, seemed to realise that she had just interrupted a moment. _Interesting_. Vowing to re-visit the situation at a later time, she ploughed on. “She’s only turned him _purple_! Bright purple. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Poor Stephanie is going to have a plum on her arm the whole night. Fancy taking a plum to the Ball! That will be the last time that a Murdock boy tries to sneak in to our fine establishment, I’ll tell you that. Well, Hardbroom, will you help? Stephanie told me to tell you that she saw your grade in that Spell Science project before you hid it, and if anyone is able to turn him back to his normal shade – freckles _not_ included, by the way – it’s you. She never meant to pick you last for Witch Ball that one time. She’ll make it up to you, blah-blah-blah. What do you say?”

“I know the spell,” Pippa blurted, hoping that panic wasn’t obvious in her voice but knowing that it was when she found herself fixed by two stares – one faintly amused, the other of steel. _Let me go._

“Follow me, then.”

“You just said that you never meant to pick me last,” Hecate said.

“Uh – ” Fenella paused on her way out. At least she had the grace to blush. “To be fair, _Stephanie_ said that, not me, but – ”

“Just go, Hecate,” Pippa said to her shoes. “Meet me in your room when you’re finished; I’ll find you something to wear.”

“Hurry, HB!”

A fresh burst of laughter floated over as Fenella joined her gang. _Oh, she_ _was going to have the time of her life with this one._ Pippa’s heart sank.

It was Hecate’s turn to pause before leaving. Her fist, holding the material of her skirt in a grip that turned her knuckles white, made an effort to loosen. She ironed out the wrinkles with one palm before lifting her head high. She opened her mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and exited as reluctantly as she had entered.

Pippa slumped with relief.

Throwing herself on to the bed for what had to be the third time that evening, she let out an enormous groan. Why, oh _why_ , had Hecate thought that she was her date? Pippa had a _boyfriend_ , however mad she was at him at the moment. _Every_ girl had a boyfriend, just like every boy had a girlfriend. Fine, she _had_ known an older Witch once, Georgia. Her family name was lost to her now, but it was rumoured that she was living with a _normal_ girl in a _one-bed_ flat on top of a popular Wakery in town – but that had surprised precisely no-one, in the end. If _Pippa Pentangle_ , however, went gallivanting off to open up a Witching bakery hand-in-hand with some other girl, _well_. Whatever would become of her reputation? Her _family’s_ reputation? Georgia probably had no-one but her special friend. Why, everyone knew that it was a lonely existence. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy. She would never wish it on _Hecate_ , which is why she had tried from her first moment of realisation to ignore every sign that her best friend was walking the same plank in the hope that it would encourage Hecate to ignore it herself. It was for her own _good_ , truly. Pippa’s intention was _pure_ – she only ever wanted to make her feel _loved_. Just because she sneaked in to bed with her to stroke her back when she was having trouble sleeping, or picked her Year 5 electives based on hers, or gave her a flower to wear to the Ball, didn’t mean that she wanted to – to –

Pippa buried her head in her pillow.

_My poor Hiccup. I’ve led her on. I’m the_ worst _best friend. I’ve treated her just like Nate treated me. I never meant to – oh, I feel rotten!_

Pippa realised then what was wrong.

_No._

Her hand flew to her locket, realising now, as the sensation prickling at the very edges of her periphery sharpened, that she had not heard it beat for some time. _No, no, no._

It felt like ice.

Panicking, she wrenched it from her neck, hurling it on to the bed. It landed face-up. Mocking her.

It did not glow.

 

“One more,” Pippa burbled, holding her hand out. An older girl passed her a shot. Next to her, someone was stroking her hair out of her mascara-streaked eyes.

“There, there,” she heard as she wept in to her palm. “Get that in you if you want to forget about him for tonight, OK?”

Pippa threw it back in the pause from one sob to the next. “Thank – you – for – looking – after – me,” she managed, shoving the heel of a palm in to each eye. “I need – I need – ”

“What do you need, love?” someone else asked. From behind her, she heard a hiss; “She’s had enough to drink, Susie!”

“Her heart is _breaking_ ,” Susie retorted, which only made Pippa wail out loud. She had never in her life felt this much pain. She would never survive this, not ever. Even the girl petting her paused in alarm at the sound that was wrenched out of her.

“I – need – Hiccup!” she heaved.

“You’re going to be sick?” The girl in front of her stumbled back.

“My friend Hecate Ha-Ha-Hardbroom – she should be here – somewhere – she has long black hair – glasses – my very best _f-f-friend_ – ”

“Alright, alright,” the group murmured as one, and Pippa was left to a her bathroom stall hide-out as they all trooped off to bring Hecate back to her.

 

Half an hour (and one particularly gruesome retching episode) later, there was no sign of neither the Year 5s nor Hecate.

Pippa ventured to pop her head out of the toilet. The beat of far-away music made her feel worse as it reverberated at her feet, but at least she knew that there was no way for her to look much worse. Having had to pass a mirror on the way out, she nearly shrieked at what she saw. Red eyes, smeared make-up, tear-stained skirt – she had never felt so ugly. No wonder Nathaniel had strayed.

However much she wanted to find Hecate, she was not heading out to the Year 4 Ball looking like a tramp with no man. _No way_.

Pippa wondered whether or not to return to her room to freshen up for a start-over, but when the hall swam around her like it was moving to the music when she turned to head back to her wing, she realised that she wouldn’t make it on her own. Finding Hecate first it was, then. Hecate had held her enough times for Pippa to know that she had the strength to manage when she blacked out. Besides, she would probably love to hear that Nathaniel was no longer in the picture.

_Wait, what?_

Pippa brushed the thought from her mind as she lumbered along, using the wall to hold herself up, until she reached the Main Hall what seemed like one year later. She felt like a bolt of thunder had split her in half. She wanted to throw herself in to a black hole. As she found a slant of pitch-black shadow behind the stage which gave her a view of the floor, she wondered how people lived like this. Why, it was the worst sensation that she had ever experienced. She hated that she had had to wait until the age of 17 to experience it, but she knew at once that it was the worst. As far as she was aware, life was no longer worth living. To think that people were able to go about as normal (to think that Hecate had lived her _whole life_ ) with this void inside of them?

Hecate would prepare her for what to expect now that they only had each other in life. She would know just what to do. After all, she was the only reason why Pippa had felt loved even before Nathaniel entered the picture.

Pippa scanned the hall, searching for her friend. The rest of her year were boogying away, broom-racing, lining up for pictures. And thank goodness – there was Hecate, shuffling on the edges with an anxious grasp on the skirt of a sombre black gown, not very far from where Pippa was hiding.

Pippa forced back an alcohol-soaked burp. “Hecate,” she whispered, beckoning her over.

Hecate turned at exactly the right time to spot her. She started making her way over, twisting to avoid being pushed or stamped on or twirled with. Watching how much tension was held in that slender form, Pippa’s heart gave a pang. She was glad that her peony sat proudly on Hecate’s wrist, marking her out as taken.

“Where have you _been_?” Hecate said as she reached her at last. “I waited for _ages_ for you. Wait, what are you doing back here?”

Pippa pulled her further behind the stage. Palm to palm, she held the locket out. Her heart sank like a stone as she realised that she hadn’t just imagined what she had seen earlier.

The light had gone. No more pulse. No warmth.

No love left.

“It fades. When – ”

“You never have to be separated again – ”

“ – and when your time is up,” Pippa finished. She felt a scream rising. _But_ _I do love him! I must!_

Hecate stared at it. Started breathing faster. Faster, faster. On the edge of hyper-ventilation, a peal of laughter, watery with a thread of shock, burbled out of her. Her peony-ornamented fist shoved at her mouth to stop the sound.

“I understand,” she gasped. There was a light in the eyes that met Pippa’s, one that was strange to her. “Oh, Pippa. I _am_ your date.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Pippa wailed, but it was lost in the mouth that was pushed over hers.

Just before she went in to shock – just before instinct made her shove, hard, and just before Stephanie stumbled in with a (no longer purple) Antonio trying to find a private place to snog, and just before she saw the horror taking over her Hecate’s features as her back hit the wall – she registered what her best friend had just said.

_“You love someone else.”_

Pippa swayed. Turned her head just as her knees gave way, landing in a pool of her own vomit.

_Well._

_That explains everything._

Laughter was the last thing to reach her before she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more Balls now, promise!
> 
> Please watch this video on [how to get over a Straight Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz-PT1KSREg). You’ll know the part that I want you to understand when you get to it. These women, as irritating as they are, do an incredible job of explaining Pippa’s role in this story. The only twist here that because this is my work of fiction, I get to make this Straight Girl realise what she’s doing – but first, I had to get past the tough bit. (Feel free to check out the comment section for more exploration re: motives.) Tune in to 2019 to see if Pippa is finally ready for some personal growth!
> 
> With that said, this story must now enter a short hiatus whilst I make a proper start on my _(gulp)_ Master’s. Once I’m on track, I promise to pick up where I left off – but until then, wish me luck!

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for canon-related mistakes. I know none of the canon, so I just make it up is I go along. Heh…


End file.
